The Great Bird Migration
by voi ch'intrate
Summary: Bella Swan is a college student that abhors change. But when she meets the rugged wanderer, Edward Masen, she finds that change is exactly what she's going to get. How will she react? And what secret is Edward harboring? AU AH OOC
1. Trees

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and such belong to the renowned Stephenie Meyer, please give credit to whom it is due. Also, consider this the disclaimer for the rest of this story. My lazy bum side will kick in and I won't want to type this for twenty more chapters.**

**Chapter 1: Trees**

The sky outside my window was insufferably gray. Large, billowy clouds created patterns of fluffy bunnies and Q-tips; but, I wasn't paying attention to this. No, I quite positively had my eyes fixated on the sheet of college rule paper in front of me.

My pen scrawled across the paper trying to keep up with the dizzying speed of my history professor's rant. My ears processed enough to make my pen move; but, not enough to hold my entire attention so, I let my eyes wander across the classroom, over the bowed heads of my classmates, and finally to the window and its cotton, fluff clouds.

I hadn't realized that class had ended until my classmates' bustle awakened me from my trance.

I jammed my book into my bag and shouldered it, quickly making my way out of the classroom and into the chaos of the hallway. I sucked in a breath and pushed my way through the hoard of people. I swear I could already feel the carbon dioxide these people were excreting. I knew it was messing with my lungs. I wondered—not for the first time—if I should wear a surgical mask. It would be convenient, albeit a crime of fashion. Better to be a fashion victim than an invalid.

Once outside in the cool, early autumn air, finally able to breath oxygen again, my head cleared.

Those inoffensive cumuli had now turned a frightful shade of dark purple. I sighed, cursing myself for believing the local weatherman this morning. How was I supposed to know that this would be the first time the local meteorological authorities actually called for a sunny day, they'd be wrong? After all, Washington was notorious for its rainfall…

The sky rumbled ominously and I cringed. Why did I choose this morning to be a skeptic? At the very least I could have been a skeptic with an umbrella. I sighed and shifted my backpack over my shoulder, if all else failed, I could use it as a makeshift umbrella.

The campus was all but empty, save for the stupid few who were attempting to thwart Mother Nature. I frowned realized I fell into this category.

At least, I had some shelter for when the sky started vomiting torrents of rain upon my head. My book bag-umbrella theory failed magnificently; within the first minute I realized that this setup was not going to work. But, thank the Lord; there was a rather inviting looking tree in my peripheral vision.

I glanced around to make sure no one else had claimed that wonderful tree. No need to start a mindless spat with someone over a solitary patch of dryness. Fate must have been smiling—or frowning as I would later find out—on me; because it appeared everyone else had had the presence of mind to duck into the sparse buildings on campus. The fact that I wasn't one of those 'someone's' irked me a little; but, the more I stood out in the rain pondering this, the closer I was to catching pneumonia. So, I graciously perched myself under the canopy of the large oak.

Having nothing better to do with my wasted minutes, I examined the tree. This slightly bothered me, because some part of me thought I could find some better way to occupy my time; and then some other part was morbidly curious. The morbidly curious part fought with the rational part and won by a landslide. So I looked at the tree's trunk, feeling like a total dork.

The regular teenaged staples were there: carved initials and hearts. I snorted, how cliché…? It was pathetic. I briefly wrestled with the idea of defacing the tree myself, but decided against the vandalism.

"So, you're not going to put your mark on this old thing?"

I jumped; the tree was talking to me. Tree talking to me. That was it; I was most definitely losing my mind.

The tree then proceeded to laugh at me. A small coherent part of my brain decided that this tree was being very rude. I decided to ignore it, and focus on the present issue of the rain.

"Oh, don't pout," it said again, and I had to bite my cheek from giggling; the tree sound petulant. I continued to ignore it. Giving a tree the cold-shoulder: something I though I'd never do.

"Fine," it replied to my silence, "ignore me; see if I care."

"Maybe I will," I muttered back; probably a little too loud for my own good because it was at this precise moment that the tree decided to make a go at friendship.

"So," it began amiably, "what's your name?"

I shrugged, already doubting my sanity as I was; there really was nothing to lose in answering the tree.

"My name is Bella," I told it begrudgingly.

"What a queer name," it replied a tone of mirth in its voice. By now, I was thoroughly annoyed with this tree's poor sense of humor; so I settled back into my 'ignoring-the-tree' routine.

"My name is Edward," it said obviously sensing the change in my mood.

"A tree with a name, now that's queer," I told it.

"But, I'm not a tree," Edward the Tree replied, thoroughly confused.

"Oh," was all I could say. I was talking to a tree in denial. Something in this scenario didn't fit. I closed my eyes and prayed that the rain would let up enough for me to get away from this tree, and then perhaps seek mental help.

Edward laughed again and I lost my train of though, because the laughter seemed so much closer than before—it was not longer in the canopy, but right by my left ear. I opened my eyes and turned my head sharply.

There he was, all six feet, one-hundred and forty pounds of Edward the Tree. He smiled and I had a sudden urge to punch those pearly whites.

"Startled you, did I?" He asked. I, still quite peeved with this boy, glowered at him and nothing more. He smiled, which only seemed to fuel my anger.

"Mind if I share your shelter?" He asked; I, begrudgingly, nodded. Lightning flashed in the distance and he pursed his lips, "Being under this big tree probably isn't the best idea; it's practically a lighting magnet."

I sighed, he was right. All laws of meteorology pointed to the fact that lightning is attracted to tall things. The tree was a tall thing. Out of being soaked in the downpour or being electrocuted to death, I would choose being soaked.

Edward watched me as I rose and grabbed my book bag. There really was no point in using it was an umbrella. I sighed, my books were probably ruined.

"You want my umbrella?" Edward asked happily.

I stared at him. I mean really stared at him. I meant to glare but the expression on his too handsome face caught me off guard so my death glare turned more into a gawk. Thankfully I reclaimed my wit quickly and stopped my unabashed staring.

"You had an umbrella this whole time?" I accused.

His dark eyebrows drew over his narrow nose, and he shrugged holding up his parasol and waving it like a battle standard.

"If you had an umbrella, then why were you up in this tree?" I asked.

He thought for a moment, "Well, I was passing by here yesterday and thought this looked like a good climbing tree, so I hatched a plan to come here today and climb this tree. I knew it would rain, so I figured I should bring this along. The storm hit while I was still in the tree; so instead of coming down I decided to wait for it to stop up there," he indicated to the branches overhead. He looked back and me and smiled winningly.

I was astonished. He came here for the sole purpose of climbing this stupid, old tree. My inner sadist wanted to sneer at him. Wait. How did he know it was going to rain? Sure, the morning new had predicted it; but, he said it so 'matter-of-fact'. No one could know for sure how the weather would act. Well, God did. But He controls those things. If He wanted it to rain cats and dogs in the middle of the Sahara, it would rain cats and dogs right on top of all that sand.

I gathered my thoughts and looked at Edward.

"How did you know for sure it would rain?" I asked, trying—and failing—to keep a curious edge from my voice.

He looked at me, tilting his head to the side sending cascades of unkempt dark hair across his face. I got the feeling he didn't want to answer me. But, he eventually opened his mouth and stated, "I knew because all the birds flew away."

The birds flew away. I probably could have gotten a more coherent answer if I'd asked a potato.

He shrugged, "You don't believe me?"

No.

I didn't think 'the birds flew away' was a logical answer for predicting weather patterns. I was not, however, going to disagree with this boy to his face; because if nothing else I really didn't want to shatter his ego.

Something in my expression must have given me away, because he just nodded and said nothing more.

I stood for who knows how long looking at him. His clothes were torn and looked like they hadn't been washed in months. He was handsome, though. He had very long, narrow features. Straight nose, wide lips, and deep eyes surrounded by long lashes that made me envious. His copper hair was matted and stuck out in all angles making him resemble Albert Einstein.

"The rain's letting up," he observed, gesturing with his umbrella.

I realized, belatedly, that I'd been staring at him, and I blushed. I quickly transferred my gaze over my shoulder to the outside.

The rain had become a light drizzle. I sighed in relief, and fixated my eyes on the sky. It wasn't as foreboding looking as before, thankfully. Some traitorous part of me wanted to continue studying Edward's face. It was maddening how intrigued I was by him. He was just some random teenager who had come here to climb this old tree. A very captivating random teenager. I mentally berated myself for being even remotely interested in him. He didn't attend this school that much I knew. If he did then he must have been a new student.

I knew this, because I was a seasoned people-watcher. I knew everyone's face if not their name. I've found that I have a rather photographic memory, so once I see a face, I never forget it this would be a useful talent if ever I witnessed a crime. Though, with my luck I'd wind up in Witness Protection.

I'd rather not change my identity, though it might do me some good. I'm too stereotyped. In the plot of a murder mystery, I'd probably be the person a serial killer would knock off to throw the cops off his trial. Fairly unremarkable, college freshman who had the uncanny ability of being a human chameleon. Always lost in the background. White noise.

And then, I made the grave mistake of comparing myself to Edward. I was dressed marginally better than him; the hems of my jeans were covered in mud, but that was as close to dirty as I got. My shirt was pressed, and buttoned all the way to the collar revealing nothing. I had left my hair down this morning and due to the downpour it left a trial of wetness down my back.

"So are you going to make a run for it, or not?" Edward asked the back of my head, seeing as I was still trying not to make eye contact with him

That loathsome inner part of me was screaming at me to stay. This boy was the most interesting thing to happen to me in weeks! Why not revel in this break up of the monotony?

The other half of my psyche was screaming, too, but for a different reason. It wanted me to get out of their as quickly as my stubby legs could carry me. I didn't know who this boy was, where he came from; and more importantly, did he have a criminal record?

My two halves began to argue relentlessly, and I stood there two feet from him most likely looking like a total moron.

He must have seen the indecision on my face; he patted a dry patch of mulch beside him and smiled invitingly.

I sighed as the fearless side of my personality claimed victory. I lower myself next to him; far enough away to satiate my wimpy part yet close enough to still be personable. My heart started beating a fretful rhythm as I realized I actually had to talk to him now.

He turned his head to meet my eyes and my heart stopped all together.

"I have a question," he said eyes alight. I groaned mentally as he continued, obviously ignoring the slightly fearful look on my face, "Why is your name Bella?"

Well, how was I supposed to know that? I could have fathomed a more intelligible answer if he'd asked me why the sky was blue.

My first instinct was to say something witty about my parents' lack of creativity with my name; but, I decided for the more friendly approach.

"It's short for Isabella," I informed him. This startled me for two reasons. One, I hated my full name. In my rather jaundiced opinion it sounded like the name of an ill-fated soap star. The second reason being I'd never, ever told anyone my full name. No matter how many people bugged me about it, I never gave in and told them my name. I'd thrown enough of a temper tantrum before I started kindergarten to get my parents to tell my teacher I was to be referred to as 'Bella' and nothing else. No one knew my name. No one except Edward.

Edward, this boy I barely knew. Edward, this random vagabond who was in desperate need of a good bath now knew one of my many secrets.

There went my security blanket. So much for being anonymous.

"But," he said slowly, and I once again had a crazy urge to punch him and run away, "you prefer to be called Bella."

Gee, he caught on fast…

"Why don't you like Isabella?"

I wasn't going to give him my corny 'soap star' excuse; so I combed through the recesses of my mind for something a little more evasive.

"Because I don't like the name Isabella," I replied. There that was nondescript; he couldn't possibly twist my words this way. I was saved from another awkward conversation.

"What about it don't you like?"

I choked. I was wrong, horribly wrong. He could, as a matter of fact, turn my words around and make me regret that I'd even opened my mouth in the first place.

"It sounds too preppy," I replied without thinking, automatically scrunching up my nose. Even the word 'preppy' gave me chills. I didn't consider myself to have any category whether it be skater, prep, or whatever else there is. Stereotypes will be stereotypes and I tried to avoid them at all costs; it was just that 'prep' seemed to be the least desirable to me.

Edward laughed, of course. Apparently everything I said was funny enough to send the boy into hysterics. I exhaled loudly showing my distaste and turned away from him, crossing my arms over my chest. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him; but, that would've been extremely childish…and he probably would laughed even harder.

I suddenly had a dark and amusing thought. So, I acted upon it; not even worrying about the repercussions, "Edward," I said trying to keep my voice mischief-free, "don't you like your name? It's fairly uncommon."

He laughed again, and my skin crawled. Apparently my go at wiping that smirk off his face had failed. "That's what I like about it," he replied lightly, "it makes me unique."

I laughed under my breath, like he needed any help being unique.

"So, you came here to climb this tree?" I asked looking up into the spread of the branches over my head.

He nodded, "I did, indeed."

"Why?" See, that was proof I could pose unanswerable questions, too. I was sure that he would not be able to answer me on this one. If he had, in fact, acted on a whim to come here today; then he wouldn't be able to answer me very well, now would he?

"Because it looked big enough for a good climb," he said tilting his head back and matching my gaze into the canopy.

Well, there it was. He really could answer every single random question I threw at him.

His answer had been innocent. A child's answer. Wasn't that every little boy's dream? To find the ultimate tree to climb? And then, in glory, conquer it. That was exactly what he had done, found his mountain then he became the Edmund Hillary to its Everest.

"Seems kind of stupid in retrospect," he smiled sadly, and my heart went into knots, "I mean, why come here just to climb a dumb, old tree?" He scoffed at himself and looking down.

I was suddenly hyperaware of my repentance at the sour thoughts I'd had about him. I was so preoccupied with feeling so boring next to him; I forgot to actually pay attention to who he was.

That was so me. Thinking too much about the person I failed to be and forgetting to look at the world around me. If I had been paying attention I probably would have noticed him walking around campus this morning, mapping out his quest. If I had even opened my eyes I would have seen him pulling himself into the first, lower branches. If I wasn't so blinded, then I could have seen his handsome, triumphant smile as he finally perched atop his leafy foe.

I frowned and wrapped my arms around my chest, hoping not to fall apart. I knew tears at my own naiveté would soon be forthcoming.

"You look like your about to cry," he observed quietly. Why, oh why did he have to be so observant? And why, did he have to be the first person to ever notice me when I was feeling this way? Wasn't I invisible, or was I losing my ability to fade away.

I didn't answer. I didn't really think I had to.

"You aren't going to cry are you?"

Apparently I had to.

"No," I replied, proud that my voice didn't crack.

"That sounds more like a 'yes'," he said. I'd known him for a total of twenty minutes, and he was already able to see through every single façade I'd cultivated. This was a problem. I needed cover, and I needed it fast.

And as soon as my mind decided for the 'flight' part of the adrenaline 'fight or flight' reaction; my only escape was closed off. It started to rain. Yes, it had been raining before. But whatever the sky had been doing before could hardly be classified as rain in comparison to this.

It was almost like all the angels decided to have a water balloon fight. Or something else ridiculous like that. Rain was coming down in sheets, and adding the additional factor of the wind, it was now raining sideways. And, of course, my reason to leave the shelter: lighting, had decided to dissipate.

"Was it a 'yes'?" He pressed. I really didn't want him to know that it was a 'yes'. But, what the heck, he already knew my name!

"So what if it was a 'yes'?" I whispered.

"It's not like I'm that worried," he told me at a normal volume apparently having his fill of hushed voices, "besides, even with a little waterworks, it's not like we aren't tempting Fate already with the whole getting-wet thing."

I nodded, "I won't cry," I vowed to both him and myself.

"Crying isn't so bad," he said stretching his long legs, he smiled and his green eyes crinkled at the edges.

I noticed, in passing, that his eyes were a startling shade of green. Even in the dim light of the storm and the shadows of the tree, they glowed. It was vaguely creepy.

"Yes, it is," I replied. Crying, in my book equated weakness. I had a zero tolerance for weakness.

"No it's not," he argued lightly, tapping my nose with his index finger. A warning flashed in my mind: Personal Space. I shifted away, and he laughed. Again.

"I guess I shouldn't laugh," he amended, tilting his head to the side like a dejected puppy, "we were, after all discussing the issue of you beginning to cry; so my laughing probably wouldn't be the nicest thing, ever. Right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"So," he said and puffed air into his cheeks before letting it out with a pop of the lips, "change of topic, do you think we'll ever be able to get out of here?"

"Knowing my luck," I retorted, "probably not."

He laughed, I got the feeling he liked to laugh, and then he did something I didn't expect. He pulled himself into the lower branches of the tree. And then scampered up the rest of the trunk, before settling his weight on a thick branch and swinging down so that his knees locked around the wood and his head bobbed upside down, three inches from mine. He extended one arm down and grabbed one of my arms, and pulled it up. There he went with the touching again; but, he held me tightly and I knew I wouldn't be able to pull away. At least not without taking him out of the tree in doing so.

"Come up here with me," he said and winked.

Now, climbing trees was not my forte. I wasn't necessarily a clumsy person; but the combination of the height and the not-so-sturdy branches practically screamed 'broken ankle' at me.

My fearless side resurrected itself and told me to take his hand and climb the tree. So what if I got a couple weeks in a cast?! Fearless Bella took Edward's hand and pulled herself up; while I watched in horror.

She was already half way up the tree when the inevitable happened. I, watching this all in a sort of detached state, had no time to scream, think of throwing my arms out to catch myself or to even brace myself for the fall.

I did close my eyes, which was stupid, I knew. If I was going to plummet to the ground I didn't particularly want to watch.

The ground didn't hurt as much as I anticipated. Much to my surprise, it didn't hurt at all. It was then that I realized I had yet to even touch the ground. I opened one eye, curious to see if I was falling in slow motion.

I wasn't even falling at all.

I was hanging by my waist. Wait. What was holding me by the waist? It was kind of hard as it pressed against my diaphragm, and it was a rather unpleasant feeling. I was willing to put up with this unpleasant feeling, considering it was highly better than the really unpleasant feeling of falling to my death.

"Grab, onto a branch," Edward panted; as I realized, belatedly, the thing around my waist was his arm. I looked up and realized he was hanging out of the tree holding onto me, distinct pain on his face. I gasped. He was holding all my weight with one arm. All one hundred and something pounds of me.

"Oh, crap!" I swung my arms around to grab onto a branch, any branch. I finally swung my legs over one and gave him some breathing room.

"You ok?" He asked leaning over a branch to peer into my eyes. I had a feeling they were why he seemed to know my thoughts. Eyes are the window to the soul; I guess no one else wanted to look into my soul.

"I'm fine," I lied. Really I wasn't fine.

I had never really been fine. And I definitely wasn't now that I knew Edward.

I was in trouble.

Up a creek without a paddle.

Up a tree, actually.

* * *

**This started out as an original story that I started writing around this time last year. I changed the names of the original characters after I realized how Twilight-like the story was. If I slip up and occasionally call one character by their non-Twilight name, just tell me and I'll change it. Just so you know, I adore this story. I love it with all my heart. I cried while writing it. There are nineteen more chapters, all of which are written, so we don't have to worry about this story not being finished. The characters are very out of character, and I've made people related who aren't normally related. Deal with it. If you don't like it, don't read. If you do happen to like it, review and tell me so!!**

**Updates for this story should come on Tuesdays and Fridays, perhaps Sundays if my lovely reviewers can convince me to do so. ;)**

**Also, if you like my stuff go check out my other fanfiction Seven Brides for Seven Brothers!**

**Next time on The Great Bird Migration:**

**"Ok," she replied taking a breath, "ok, so where are you exactly?"**

**"I'm in a tree," I said.**

**Uh-oh, wrong answer.**

**Alice started to hyperventilate. I groaned, calming her down was going to be a feat, "Ali, don't freak out; I just wanted to get some shelter from the rain."**

**"So you climbed a tree?" She asked sarcasm heavy in her voice.**

**"Yes, I did," I said, and she groaned.**

* * *


	2. Imagination

**Chapter 2: Imagination**

The view from my branch was breathtaking. The rain had let up a little, and a few breaks in the clouds let solitary beams of sunlight stream down to the sparkling ground below. It looked like a scene from a painting. I smiled and leaned out further over the branches of the oak tree.

I felt safer this way, both hands security around the bark; and, Edward watching me securely from a higher branch.

"You look happier," he commented. I realized I had been smiling, and quickly smothered it. No need to drop all my cards in front of a stranger.

He was, after all, just that: a stranger. No mater how comfortable I felt around him; and, no matter how much he seemed to make me smile, I couldn't—wouldn't grow attached to him. Sooner or later he was going to have to climb out of his tree and then he'd have to move on with his life; as would I.

I sighed, and looked at the mulch feet below me. Call me crazy, but I really didn't want my feet to ever touch that mulch. I wanted to stay in that tree forever.

My cell phone jingled, and I jumped much to Edward's amusement. He chuckled as I answered.

"Bella," the other line growled, "where the devil are you?"

I groaned and Edward looked at me quizzically.

"I look at my clock," my phone squawked, "and it's already 3 o'clock and you're not here; so what do I do, I go looking for you and you're nowhere to be found!"

"Calm down, and breath," I replied, long-suffering.

"Calm down, that's what you say, calm down!" She trilled. I knew from experience that her face had probably turned a light shade of purple and she was most likely throwing her free arm in the air in exasperation. I rolled my eyes, she was so predictable.

"Yes," I said, "all I can say is calm down, because that's what you need to do, Alice."

Edward looked at me amusement in his features as well as question.

"Ok," she replied taking a breath, "ok, so where are you exactly?"

"I'm in a tree," I said.

Uh-oh, wrong answer.

Alice started to hyperventilate. I groaned, calming her down was going to be a feat, "Ali, don't freak out; I just wanted to get some shelter from the rain."

"So you climbed a tree?" She asked sarcasm heavy in her voice.

"Yes, I did," I said, and she groaned.

Alice, my only true friend, tended to over-react to everything. She was my sanity, though, and I'd put up with her since the fourth grade when she saved me from a nefarious bully. I'd stood up to the sixth grader, and was about to be beaten to a bloody, little pulp when she started to scream her lungs out therefore garnering the attention of a nearby teacher; we've been friends ever since. Mainly because, I can't get her to stop following me around.

Her real name isn't Alice. She forced me to convince everyone when we entered high school that her name was lice. I was always the more outgoing of the pair; and, for some inexplicable reason people believed me when I told them something.

So, upon entering freshman year she was Alice and nothing else. I really couldn't blame her for wanting an alias. After all, I'd had mine since the age of five. I still had nine years on her. But, I had an ace in the hole; I actually knew her real name, and I used it to fit my own agenda. If I was in desperate need of calming her down, calling her by her given name usually did the job.

"What tree are you in?" She trilled.

I heard her with my open ear before my phone processed it. Her shriek was unmistakable. I peered out of the surrounding foliage and spotted her familiar mop of spiky, black hair.

"I'm in the one you're looking at," I replied.

Her gaze turned to the oak and she snapped her phone shut with audible anger.

"Bella, get your butt out of that tree," she called, peering upwards and allowing her face to be damped in the fine mist that the rain had dissipated into.

"Why should I?" I fired back childishly.

"Because I said so, that's why!" She said pushing her dampened hair from her face.

I sighed and looked over my shoulder at Edward; expecting to see those startling green eyes; but all I saw was the green of the tree.

"Edward?" I asked, startled.

Silence.

"Bells, if you hadn't noticed you're talking to yourself," Alice said, her signature, hazel green eyes flashing.

"I am not," I replied, "Edward, where are you?"

"Bella?" She asked, sounding suddenly frightened, "Are you ok?"

Edward wasn't there. I hadn't heard him leave, I was sure I would have heard his descent. I already doubted my sanity, didn't it? Edward could have been something my mind concocted to keep me company that rainy afternoon. I'd never seen him before and probably never would see him again.

His face, his eyes, his demeanor, everything were quite possibly figments of my imagination. I had an overactive imagination; I was the kid who still carried imaginary friends even into middle school. I would still have imaginary friends if my school hadn't notified my parents of it and so, I was forced to give up my posse. That was alright, I wasn't entirely lonely, I had Alice; and she took a lot of looking after. She needed me, and I needed her. We both gave and took.

This wouldn't have been the first time I'd had a conversation with someone who wasn't really there. This was who I'd garnered the nickname 'Sixth Sense' in high school. Though, I didn't really identify with the protagonist of a creepy, horror film; I was annoyed that they compared me to the little kid who saw ghosts. I didn't see ghosts, I created them.

"Bella, if you don't come down here in five seconds I'm going to go find a chainsaw and cut you down," Alice threatened. She really wouldn't do anything aside from stomping her foot and threatening some more; but, I didn't want to deal with her temper if I overstayed my welcome in that fine, old tree.

I climbed down carefully; knowing Edward wasn't there to catch me. I must have invented his strong arms. Sad how convincing my mind could be when I wasn't even trying. Edward was a new creation, though. I rarely had new incarnations of the imagination; just resurrections of my past imaginary friends.

"Not again," Ali groaned as I finally made my way down the trunk, feet splayed on the last rungs of the lowest branches. "Did you start talking to yourself again?"

Really, everyone overreacted to these things. I didn't do it that often; but, often enough to keep my small circle of friends on red alert. What was a couple of conversations with myself? Everyone talks to themselves once and a while. I just did it more 'a while' than 'once'.

"So what if I did," I sniffed.

"Bella, you can't keep doing this," she said, her tawny, green eyes sad. "Who was it this time?"

I'd made the grave mistake of telling her once all about my past imaginary friends. She'd, of course, remembered everything I said and used it against me.

"Someone new," I muttered and pushed past her, suddenly wishing I had a jacket in the after-rain wind. She followed behind at her own pace; giving me some space. I didn't know if I'd frightened her with all my tom-foolery; or if she knew I didn't want company at the moment. Wait that was a lie. I did want company, just not hers.

Why did all the good people in life have to be imaginary?

I wrapped my arms around my chest, using the excuse of warmth instead of admitting the dull ache in my heart. I was lonely. That was my life's story. I was lonely in a room full of people. I was the broken ride in the middle of an amusement park. Sometimes, I felt like that: like I was on display because of how devastatingly boring and bizarre I truly was.

"You want to order a pizza or something?" Alice asked. I nodded, and she added smiling, "Extra cheese."

Extra cheese. My love.

I laughed; and, her expression finally warmed. Good, I hadn't worried her too badly then.

We made our way to the apartment we shared laughing and making small talk. Her parents had insisted upon our living in one of the apartments on campus rather than the dormitories. Apparently it had something to do with the evils of a dorm room. I don't deign to know how parents' minds work. Mine didn't really care where I lived; they were proud enough to have a daughter who was getting an education. Alice probably would have died if she were here alone; so I volunteered to be her roommate. I didn't think her parents were very fond of me—and really, I couldn't blame them—but, they agreed to put us up in this little flat for the duration of our stay in the institute of greater education.

She closed the door behind her and threw her keys onto the kitchen counter, searching under a pile of junk mail for our telephone. Sad to say, we weren't the best of housekeepers. We both tended to pile things that were in our way; so there was a pile of dirty dishes in the sink—I'd make Alice wash them later—and there was a pile of unopened mail by the telephone, and a pile of dirty clothes in front of the closet that encased our ancient washing machine. A washing machine which worked subjectively; we had a washing machine with an attitude. It didn't like jeans, or shirts or underwear; it did, however, like towels. It ate towels like candy. So, we had a surplus of clean towels and that was pretty much it. I'd have to do a load sooner or later or else I'd have to run around naked.

I snorted to myself at the thought of my lack of clothing. I was probably the most modest person I knew. I was the girl who wore oversized T-shirts and shorts to the beach because she didn't like bathing suits; I was comfortable, however impractical it may have been. I always looked odd with a farmer's tan.

"Hey there, Handsome," Ali was saying into the phone. I shook my head as I haphazardly tossed clothes into the beast's mouth, "We want a pizza."

She waited in silence as I measured out detergent.

"Extra cheese," she stated with surety, and then her eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled, "I love you too, see you in a bit."

She put the phone back into its rightful place, "Jasper's bringing the pizza up in twenty minutes," she said.

Jasper was Alice's steady-beau. We'd both known him since elementary school, where she absolutely hated his guts. He was two years older than we were; actually he was the bully who Alice had 'saved' me from. He had been a bully up until he entered high school, where he mellowed out. He almost served to destroy all my hard work convincing everyone in our new district that Alice's name was in fact Alice. He'd always known her as 'Mary' just like all of out other classmates—who by a stroke of luck stayed in our old school district, while we left. He'd matured in the few years we hadn't seen him due to the age gap. His mop of yellow hair had subdued itself a little, growing longer and in his face and he'd gone from the pudgy, name-caller he once was to the brunt of many high-school dramas. He had a bit of a reputation as being a heartbreaker—no one could blame him; he hadn't really done anything. Girls just fought over him.

Funny as it was, he is—to this day even—completely oblivious to all this. I told him once about a four-month long issue that had totally sucked the life out of my freshman class because two girls liked him and started a war over it. He laughed nervously and looked between Alice and me; and asked her if that really had happened. I don't quite understand how he missed all of that crap. I would have loved to crawl up into a hallow tree and hibernate through those long months, and it seemed Jasper had done just that.

"Jasper was on duty today?" I asked conversationally. Jasper worked at the cheesy—no pun intended—pizza joint down the street. 'Mario's Slice of Heaven' was the fine Italian eatery here. Mario himself was a classy man, with an odd assortment of tattoos and piercing more befitting the owner of a Harley Davidson rather than a pizzeria.

"Mmhmm," Alice hummed back nodding.

"And he's going to bring it here once his shift ends," I prompted throwing in more jeans and detergent.

"Yep," she said leaning around the kitchen doorway and looking at me with baleful eyes.

"What's the matter?" I asked, keeping my voice casual. She was, no doubt, wondering about my adventure earlier today.

"You know," she snapped warily. Oh great, I was currently on her bad side.

"So what if I had a conversation with someone who wasn't really there?" I asked, "It's not like I haven't done that before; and, as for my climbing a tree it really wasn't so bad, little kids do it all the time."

"I know that," she said sighing and crouching next to me, idly sorting through the piles of soiled clothes, "you know I'm worried about you."

Yes. I knew that. Everyone worried about me. They thought that perhaps once I went away to college I'd lose my harsh, overbearing shell and become the flowery, girlie-girl that everyone wanted me to be.

Alas, that would never happen. I was too set in my brash ways. Already engraved upon me like child's handprints encased in cement; my way of being was carved all over me. I was too far encased in my shell to ever be able to break free.

"Yeah, I know," I muttered, starting the washing machine. It made a fretful groaning noise as it shuttered to a start.

"Then why do you still do these things?" She asked, her green eyes slowly draining of their anger.

"Because, it's who I am; and, if that annoys people, then so be it," I snapped, quickly regretting my harsh tone.

She leaned her head forward, dark brown hair tumbling past her ears. I really regretted it now. I knew she cared for me; above all else. I dropped the pair of pants I was holding, and put my hands on her shoulders.

She drew her face up to look at me; and mustered a smile. I hated myself for making her sad.

"Don't worry about me," I smiled and reclaimed my laundry, "besides, we've known for a long time I'm crazy!"

She laughed and went to grab her book bag from where she had deposited it by the door.

"Homework time!" She said brightly, only she could have a sunny attitude about doing schoolwork.

Alice took out her books and started in on her history homework. Despite the fact that laundry was only marginally better than homework; I continued my task, praying that the Homework Fairy would come in the meantime. I'd never been visited by this fairy; but, I hear she was very kind, and also very selective in whom she helped. I'd never fit her prerequisites, so my homework remained unfinished.

After my first load of towels, a knock came at the door; and, Alice danced across the room to answer it.

"Hey," she said airily as she smiled up at our yellow-haired pizza man.

"Hey," Jasper replied leaning down to give her a peck on the lips.

I stuck my tongue out as I moved the towels into the dryer. Thankfully our dryer wasn't as dysfunctional as our washer.

"You don't have to make that face," Jasper grinned, "I bring you tidings of good pizza."

"Only because it's your job," I retorted. Jasper and I had a love-hate relationship. On the one hand, I was glad that he and Alice were together. He was everything to her, and above all else he loved her back. But then again, Jasper and I were still hit-and-miss. I had a tendency to constantly annoy him, and as per the Golden Rule he dished out as much as he took.

"Bells, you want two pieces?" Alice asked, grabbing a couple of plates. I nodded.

She took out two pieces, put them on a plate and handed it to me.

She grabbed her own piece and went to join Jasper at the table.

I was loath to admit they looked cute together. Her head bent over her homework in concentration, and his bent matching hers. She was reading the page; but, he seemed content to trace patterns with his fingertips across her outstretched hand. Sometimes, they were so cute it hurt to look at them.

I choked back the bile rising in my throat and shuffled into the living room, pizza in hand.

I briefly fought with the idea of starting my homework. But my heart wouldn't have been in it. No matter how hard I tried to think of something else, all I could think of was a pair of apple green eyes. And then those green eyes surrounded by the milky white of his face, and then the tangle of his coppery hair, and those dirty clothes.

I shook my head. Dwelling on a figment of my imagination was not a good idea. I should try to live in the present as much as humanly possible. I couldn't lose myself to my imagination.

What bothered me was he had been so vivid. None of my other apparitions had seemed so real. I remembered random things about them. Perhaps an eye colour, or maybe a speech pattern; but, no one stuck out in my mind like Edward. Even his name made him stand out. Due to my lack of creativity, my people generally had stupid names. I distinctly remember having a 'Fred'…

I smiled slightly, remembering having friends like that; remembering better times. Easier times.

I wanted so badly to see Edward again. I wanted him to laugh at me. I promised myself that if he ever came back; I wouldn't allow myself to have the urge to punch him again. I'd be savoring the look of his face. Remembering every detail, so when he left for the last time; I'd be able to resurrect the memory.

Ali peered around the doorway at me. She looked at me and mustered a smile. I was still worrying her. I sighed and stood, "Is all the pizza gone?"

"Nope, there're a couple of pieces left," she smiled, "you want some, I'll bring it to you."

"No thanks, Mom," I replied teasing lightly hoping she wouldn't sense the note of sadness in my voice, "I'll get it myself."

I strode past her into the kitchen; Jasper gave me a look that distinctly said 'Don't freak my girlfriend out anymore'. I snorted at him, and served myself another piece.

Mario, despite his intimidating appearance, was a kindly fellow; and, to his credit, he made a darn good pizza. Alice's and mine standby of a large, extra cheese was always made to perfection. Crafted by the pizza gods, or just a solitary pizza god; if Mario ever heard me say that, it'd go straight to his head. I laughed to myself and Jasper looked at me like I had a third eye.

"Ali, Bella is doing that weird laugh-thing again," he called as Alice ambled back into the kitchen.

Alice chuckled, "Just ignore her."

"Thanks, Ali," I shot back around a mouthful of cheesy pizza.

"Uh-huh," Alice smiled back, reclaiming her seat near Jasper.

"Pig out on the pizza, Bella," he instructed sarcastically as I started on my fourth piece. I'd always been thin—thank you, fast metabolism.

"I will, thanks, Jasper!" I said shoving the crust into my mouth and washing it down with a glass of milk. Jasper rolled his eyes, and then went back to being fascinated by a piece of hair that hung over Alice's ear. It was my turn to roll my eyes.

Alice made a strange noise in the back of her throat, before flopping her head down against her open book. Jasper raised his eyebrows. And I sighed, throwing my fifth piece back into the box.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

She groaned in response, "I don't know the answer!"

"Look it up," I retorted reaching to reclaim my pizza.

"Bella, I seriously don't know—you're good at history, go get your book and help me, please!" She pleaded.

I sighed and re-tossed my pizza back in the box, trudging to the door to where I stashed by bag.

It wasn't there.

Figures.

Now, the real question was, had I left it under that stupid, old tree…? I distinctly remembered using—well, trying to use—it as an umbrella. I didn't remember where I'd put it upon seeing Edward. And I didn't remember picking it up after Alice had found me in the tree. I did have a lot on my mind when that was happening, so I knew I hadn't picked it up. So that meant, my ruined books were getting even more soaked out under that tree.

I scrunched up my nose; she turned her head to look at me. Her dark brown eyebrows furrowed, "What's the matter with you now?"

"I left my backpack out by that stupid tree," I muttered, grabbing my pizza with a vengeance and taking a too-large bite.

"Bella!" Alice whined. Jasper narrowed his eyes, and then sighed, "What tree did you leave it under? I'll go get it."

"Don't worry about it," I said swallowing thickly, "I'll go get my rain boots and go look for it. Knowing my luck, it's probably been stolen and sold on the Black Market by now."

Jasper snorted. I trudged back to my room, despising myself for having to go back there so soon. I knew it would just serve to haunt me.

It was like going back to the scene of a grisly murder and having to relive those moments. I didn't think I was ready to face that yet. I hadn't gotten my imagination wholly reigned in yet. Thankfully, I had the excuse to rifle through my closet to find my rain boots to save me some more time.

I was thigh-deep in my closet mess when I heard Alice's quickened footsteps against the linoleum in the kitchen. I sighed and hoped that she hadn't found another problem with her homework. My book—if it was still there—was probably soaked beyond all recognition.

"Bells, some guy's at the door and he's totally gorgeous!" She gushed, I rolled my eyes, then she added, "He's asking for you!"

* * *

**Now who could that be at the door...? ;)**

**A big thank you to everyone who reviewed this! Pam Briggs and greengoldlight4 win a prize. I don't actually know what that prize is. But they win it. They're the only two who reviewed the last chapter--and I squealed delightedly when I read those reviews, so thank you to the both of you.**

**The playlist for this story is going to be put up in my profile, hopefully you guys will go check it out. **

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"Are you a friend of Bella's?" Alice asked. I tried to elbow her in the ribs, but she had ducked away from my striking range and had taken a step forward to study Edward. Good, this was good, she could see him.**

**"I guess I am," he smiled again; and, rubbed the back of his neck. I noticed for the first time that he was barefoot. That was...disturbing. Did he have shoes on when were in the tree? Why hadn't I noticed something like that? I froze. Was he homeless or soemthing? Great, I really knew how to pick 'em.**


	3. Dirty Dishes

**Chapter 3: Dirty Dishes**

A gorgeous guy for me? My first thought was, he had the wrong Bella. I was never much of a guy-catcher. As I've said, I tended to blend with the crowd, instead of standing out and getting all the boys' attention.

Of course, Alice's definition of 'a gorgeous guy' could be skewed. Alice had been, and most likely will always be, an insufferable, hopeless romantic. I thought that once she and Jasper started something meaningful that she'd stop; but, oh how I was wrong. At the very least she could have stopped trying to get me a significant other. I really didn't need a guy. Especially not now with my thoughts thoroughly consumed with all things Edward.

I sighed and climbed out of the heap of junk on my closet floor.

"What does this guy want?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"I dunno," she said prodding her chin with the tip of one finger, "but, I'm serious he's handsome! He's got your book bag under his arm."

He had my book bag. Oh great, I'd inadvertently attracted weirdoes. At least Jasper was here, if this guy had a mental disorder; Jasper could chase him off. I cringed as I realized I kept my wallet in my bag. Aside from the fact that I had no money, this was disturbing; he could have filched my driver's license. What he'd want with that, was a different story; but, if I did, in fact, have a stalker that was just the kind of creepy thing he'd do.

I rounded the corner to the front of our apartment bracing myself for a fight. Or at the very least a lunge forward to grab my bag and slam the door in this guy's face. I was too preoccupied with my plans to actually look at him

"You left your bag under the tree earlier."

I stopped.

This could not, and would not be real. He was not here. I was imagining this. I had to be, that was the only explanation for it. Either that or I was losing my mind; and I really didn't want to go with that venue.

Wait! I had witnesses here. Alice and Jasper had seen him this time, right? So, I wasn't technically crazy; unless somehow we were in the same delusion.

I couldn't waste time with my own issues, because there was a more pressing matter; and, it took the form of Edward standing on my doorstep in the rain.

Our apartments were lame. It was more like a Motel 60 setup with the whole one-floor, Norman Bates inn approach to everything. It was kind of creepy, and I loved it.

"You want this, or not?" Edward asked, holding out my bag; and, I realized I'd probably been staring off into space. There I went again, making myself look like a complete moron.

"Ah, yes, I do want it," I said snatching my backpack away from him; it made an ominous sloshing noise. I cringed.

Edward looked close to laughing again, and I quelled the urge to lash out. I'd promised myself I'd savor this, after all. But, he was here; and, normal human beings could see him. So did that mean I didn't make him up? I was confused; though, that was a vast understatement.

Edward smiled crookedly. Alice, whom had taken her place at my side, melted. I idly wondered if her boyfriend was watching her turn into a pile of goo at the sight of some other boy. Though, knowing Jasper, he'd probably be oblivious to it.

"Are you a friend of Bella's?" Alice asked. I tried to elbow her in the ribs, but she had ducked away from my striking range and had taken a step forward to study Edward. Good, this was good, she could see him.

"I guess I am," he smiled again; and, rubbed the back of his neck. I noticed for the first time that he was barefoot. That was…disturbing. Did he have shoes on when we were in the tree? Why hadn't I noticed something like that? I froze. Was he homeless or something? Great, I really knew how to pick 'em.

"You want to come in or something?" Alice offered, stepping aside, "We just ordered a pizza—I don't think Bella's eaten it all yet," she added as an afterthought. I sneered in her direction, and then stalked off to deposit my wet book bag on the easily-cleanable linoleum in the kitchen.

"I think you're book bag's wet, Bella," Jasper observed crisply as I threw it to the floor.

"Really, Jasper?" I asked, finally letting sarcasm seep heavily into my voice. I'd kept my temper in check long enough. I'd been fairly good all through my afternoon with Edward—despite the laughter—and, as long as Jasper'd been here, I thought that I'd done pretty well. But, I was at my breaking point; I was bound to snap soon.

Alice noticed the irked look on my face and sighed long-suffering. She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me; my eye twitched, and she had to stifle a giggle. I was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that Edward was now standing in the middle of my kitchen, fighting back laughter harder than Ali was.

If I was close to breaking before; I was closer now. And, it seemed like I wouldn't just break—but shatter. And, it was going to happen soon. I bit down hard on my bottom lip and closed my eyes.

I heard a stray chortle escape Edward's lips and I snapped my eyes open, turning on my heel to face him. He clamped his lips shut, and looked at me with slightly remorseful eyes. It was the 'slightly' part that bothered me the most. I opened my mouth to yell at him; but, Alice grabbed my arm and chided, "Living room conference! C'mon, Bella!" She pulled me by the elbow into the living room, guiding the way for me. That was probably a good thing, my eyes didn't see anything in front of me, they were locked in place on Edward's frightful, green eyes; trying with all my might to decipher the odd expression they held.

He seemed sad almost. When I looked into his eyes, for just that brief moment; all my anger fizzled out into sparks in my throat. I didn't understand. Why was he so sad? Somehow I blamed myself for that sadness. I knew, instinctively, it was my fault.

Alice pulled me around the doorway just in time. I knew if she had waited only moments longer—I'd have been forever lost in those pools of deep, green sorrow.

"What is your issue?" She hissed under her breath.

Oh, right. I was supposed to be mad. I'd lost my train of thought; once again Edward had left me unable to be coherent. I was going to have to work an agreement out with him, if he refused to stay out of my life; then he was going to have to stop leaving me speechless. I was the most outspoken person I knew, I couldn't lose my reputation just because of some random passerby. Even if he was unbelievably handsome.

When did I start thinking he was handsome? Crap. This was no good. No good, no good. My mind screamed at me flailing its arms. My mind, for metaphorical purposes only, was a small representation of myself with exaggerated expression and a rather dim view on the world. This little person had a running commentary on my life. My life, thus far, being rather dull—now, however, it had something juicy to rant about. Great, now I was thinking of Edward as a juicy topic. My opinions on the boy were growing worse by the second.

Alice cleared her throat, and I had to scramble to remember what question she had asked me. Oh, why I was mad, right.

"He's just frustrating," I said trying to grit my teeth in a convincingly angry way.

She didn't buy it, not like I had really put much of an effort into my façade anyway; but, it was slightly annoying that she knew I was lying.

"There's something else," she said, crossing her arms and furrowing her eyebrows. She looked like a pouting child, cross from being punished.

I shook my head, "No there's not."

I looked away, focusing on the now pounding rain outside the window. I was trying to distract myself from thinking about Edward and the fact that other—verifiably normal—people could see him, and the ramifications this information entailed.

She grabbed both sides of my face and turned my head to look at her. She shoved my hair in my eyes with the pressure from her palms, I waspishly pushed my unruly brown locks from my eyes, attempting to comb through them with my fingers with her hands still in the way.

"Bells, who is this guy?" She asked in a whisper.

I sighed in defeat, "The guy who was in the tree with me," I hissed back.

"You were in that tree alone," she said in a dull whisper, slowly letting her voice rise in volume. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure both males were still safely out of hearing range.

"No, I wasn't," I disagreed, "Edward was the one who got me in the tree in the first place, do you really think I'd climb a tree of my own volition?" She shook her head and I continued, "He was there with me, when you called he must have climbed down quietly or something, I didn't notice it."

Alice's eyes darkened as she struggled to understand. She still didn't understand; I sighed and rolled my eyes. It really wasn't that hard to fathom.

I tried to avoid the rain—and failed—met some random boy under a tree and climbed said tree with him. It really wasn't so hard to figure out. Deciphering my logic behind why I climbed the tree with Edward was something she probably couldn't do. I'm not entirely sure I could. Deciphering my logic was hard enough, and with Edward involved I'm not entirely sure the task would be possible. He had the uncanny ability to make my fairly simple life seem exponentially more complicated.

"He was in the tree?" Alice said understanding dawning on her face.

I nodded slightly annoyed it took her that long.

"But, he climbed down before I got there," she said twirling a strand of her short hair between her thumb and forefinger, her eyes brightened, "I bet he stole your bag so he could see you again!"

"Honestly, Ali, not everyone has ulterior motives. I was spacey when you got me out of that tree, so I didn't grab it…he probably just saw it and thought to bring it to me!"

She nodded in a way that made me think she didn't believe me.

"Alice," I hissed under my breath, "did you see him? He's in torn and dirty clothes and he's barefoot! You just invited a deranged homeless person in our house!"

She looked horrorstricken for a brief moment before she smiled sheepishly, "Jasper's here, at the very least, I'm safe."

Oh great, Alice had her knight in shining armor, and I was to be fed to the dragon. Somehow, that seemed like poetic justice.

"I'm going to go to my death, then," I said and turned to walk back into the kitchen. Alice hovered at my side, obviously frightened but not really willing to write Edward off just yet.

I glared at him with as much consternation as I could muster and went to grab my fifth piece of pizza. It wasn't there and I glared back at Jasper. He looked at me innocently.

My eyes reluctantly turned on Edward, whom was quickly shoving pizza crust into his mouth. He looked away; but, moved his gaze to the pizza box to eye it greedily. I sighed, realizing that he probably couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good meal.

My mind began rapid firing as I tried to mentally calculate how long it would have taken his cheeks to be so sunken, and how could I not notice how his wet shirt clung to the stiff outline of his ribs. I flinched. He may have been homeless; but, who was I to judge? If anything, I could buy him a pair of shoes and make him a better dinner than a solitary piece of extra cheese pizza.

I turned away from him, and opened our refrigerator. We had some left over spaghetti from the night before; I grabbed the plastic container and began to heat it up in the microwave. Jasper eyed me warily then smiled, "Bella, you eat more than a guy does."

"No, I don't," I replied and removed the container for the microwave, leaning over the end of the counter to snag a fork from the utensil drawer, "I'm not eating this; Edward is."

I shoved the bowl in his general direction, still attempting to glare daggers at Jasper. No one took the spaghetti from me.

"You didn't have to do that," Edward finally said quietly.

"No, I didn't," I agreed, taking a step closer so my outstretched hand was closer to him, more pressing, "but, I did. So are you going to eat it before it gets cold, or what?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, and moved one hand up to take the bowl from me. He frowned as he looked into its contents.

"What, you don't like spaghetti?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. Beggars can't be choosers, right?

"No, I love spaghetti," he corrected looking up and smiling for a brief moment, "it's just…been a long time since I've had it."

"Well, it's probably nasty; so sorry. I made it."

He looked at me and his eyes warmed, though he remained unsmiling, he took a step closer closing the gap between us and murmured quietly, "I bet it's wonderful; because you made it. Thank you."

I instinctively took a step backwards, and he looked at me with his smiling eyes. It was disconcerting that though his eyes looked so happy, his mouth refused to show it.

"You can sit down you know," I said more to myself than anyone else. He nodded and took the seat opposite Jasper. Alice seemed to sense that I was comfortable—or as comfortable as someone like me could be—so she settled down a little.

The only noise for a while was the sound of Edward's fork against the plastic. Alice had reclaimed her seat next to Jasper and seemed to be trying to inconspicuously burrow closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her closer. Edward didn't look up; but, I saw his lips twitch into a brief smile as Alice shifted her weight towards Jasper. He must have found it amusing that she was uncomfortable around him.

I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms; trying not to feel smug about my recent victory against my imagination. I hadn't, in fact, slipped away. I'd stayed in the present. I had every right to be proud of myself for that. I was, however, disappointed that my imagination wasn't active enough to create someone like Edward. To create someone interesting.

My disappointment was overshadowed by my relief that I was still sane. After all, if I was losing my mind; I didn't think my future would look very bright.

Edward looked around the kitchen once he was finished, "Where's your sink?"

I moved forward and grabbed the bowl from him and tossed it in the sink; Edward sighed and stood and walked to the sink, "I'll wash it," he said quietly.

"Don't bother," I said and shrugged. "One more to the stack wasn't going to kill it. Besides, we'd probably just end up throwing half those dishes away…most of them had vicious mold growing on them. It would probably grow fangs and bite my hand off if I tried to wash those dishes."

"Are you waiting for the dish fairy to come do these?" He gestured to the monstrous piles, a bemused look on his face.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we are," I snapped.

Alice giggled, and added, "We're awful housekeepers."

"Ain't that the truth," Edward muttered, if I hadn't been so intent upon listening to him, I would have missed it. His voice was so quiet; I was sure neither Jasper nor Alice had heard him.

I was annoyed that he knew one of my bad habits. He saw the twitch of aggravation cross my face, and smiled. My growing irritation dissipated at the sight. No. I had to fight to stay upset. Strange thing to fight for—but, it seemed like I couldn't just lose to this. I couldn't give up. I couldn't just waste all those years of trying to make myself the person I was just because of one smile. One smile couldn't destroy a lifetime's work. Could it?

"So, can I wash your dishes, or not?"

I gaped, "You mean wash all the dishes?!"

He nodded slowly like I was mentally handicapped—I probably was—but, that was my problem not his, "Yes, you gave me food. I'll clean. It's an even exchange."

"No it's not," I said without thinking, "The mold will eat you alive."

He pressed his lips together to keep from laughing and looked at me with serious eyes, "I think I can handle it," he said before breaking into an ear-to-ear grin.

"Knock yourself out then," I muttered, trying to glare.

He turned to the sink and started to sort things into piles, one pile I was assuming was the unsalvageable dishes; the others looked to be the ones he was going to try to clean. I was right; he soon turned to me and asked permission to throw the mold-encrusted plates out the window. I gave him a trash-bag instead; but, it still did the job.

He turned back to the pile of dishes he was going to wash. It looked bigger than it should have. Like he was trying to save more plates than I would have; like he wanted to impress someone with his mad dishwashing skills.

I groaned internally hoping I wasn't the one he was aiming to impress.

He looked over the dishes as he ran the water as hot as he dared, he turned to be a confused expression marring his features, "Do you even have dish-soap?" He asked, raising one eyebrow.

That would be a 'no'. I shook my head; what a mess. Literally. Well, at the very least we had a nice neat pile of dirty dishes. It wasn't like I was going to hand him a couple dollars and point him in the direction of the local convenience store.

"Where can I buy some?"

Could he read minds? I was suddenly very frightened.

"I'm not letting you go to the store to buy dish soap to wash dishes for a total stranger," I said, gathering my thoughts enough to be sarcastic.

"Why not?" He asked, drawing his eyebrows together.

"Because," I shot back with intensity, "it's just stupid. Edward, you don't have to wash our dishes. It's ridiculous!"

"I have to pay you back somehow!" He argued.

"No you don't! I gave you a bowl of spaghetti! That hardly denotes payback!"

"So what, maybe I'm just disgusting by your poor housekeeping skills; maybe I want to try to save your from getting salmonella!"

He clamped his mouth shut and looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, trying to figure out what to say.

Perhaps he'd assumed I had taken offense by his words. I really hadn't. I was more engrossed in why he felt such conviction to wash our plates. We really had only just met. Cleaning someone's disgusting dishware was not what you did for someone you just met. It just wasn't something I'd do. Maybe it was something normal people would do… I quickly grazed over all my past encounters with people in my mind. Most of the people I'd had the infinite pleasure of meeting were probably just as averse to washing a stranger's dishes as I was.

He opened his mouth again and exhaled loudly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." He bowed his head.

I narrowed my eyes, "You didn't. I'm just trying to understand why you seem to have such a great desire to wash a complete stranger's dishes."

"But, you're not a complete stranger, Isabe—" I lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm, diving into the living room.

"Don't call me that!" I hissed under my breath, sure Alice was eavesdropping from the kitchen.

"Why not?" He demanded in a dull whisper, "It is your name after all."

"Nobody knows my full name!" I wailed quietly, flailing my arms in the air.

"I know your full name," he corrected raising one eyebrow, frustrated.

"But that's not the point. It was a fluke that you found out. I must be off my medication or something!"

He looked positively amused now, he choked back a chuckle, "You're on medication?" He asked, tone trying to be serious. It didn't work. I knew he was joking by the way he held his face: cheeks and jaw tight trying to deny the laugher that was undoubtedly dwelling in his throat.

"No!" I quailed, "But, I don't know why I told you my name. It was…bizarre…" My voice trailed off. I had forgotten any good reasoning behind why my name was so secret. Honestly it didn't matter anymore; but, I was so set on being Bella, it seemed liked my whole life would be superfluous if I hadn't made myself into the person I was. I had the feeling that if I'd given in and stayed Isabella, then I wouldn't be the same person. Things might have been better if they were different. But, Bella was all I knew. Bella was comfortable. Bella was exactly what I wanted.

And, Edward was taking that away from me.

Edward was something I didn't know. Edward was uncomfortable. Edward was exactly something I didn't want.

* * *

**I was, originally, going to post this chapter on Sunday; but, I was very busy on Sunday and didn't have time to. Church stuff and then I was reading a really good book (The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, you guys should check it out!) so now I'm finally posting this chapter. I hope you guys like it--and please review. You guys have pulled through and told your friends about this story and have reviewed. Please keep it up. You guys are awesome.**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"What's the matter?" Edward asked, biting his bottom lip. "If it really was just the name-thing, I'm sorry. I should've thought before I spoke." **

**"It's not just that," I said. I knew my voice was devoid of emotion.**

**"What is it then?" He pressed. I looked up at his face. Taking in every expression mingled in his acid green eyes. His face was serious; it was wrought upon his features. But his eyes conveyed a different emotion entirely. I breifly wondered how he controlled his expression so seamlessly--but I then realized that his eyes were just as intent as his face was. They just showed a large amount of sentiment than his face would.**

**I shook my head, "It's everything." I whispered.**


	4. Umbrella

**Chapter 4: Umbrella**

"You look upset," Edward observed.

I was standing there, gaping at him still. Too absorbed in my thoughts to be angry with him. I was too busy being angry with myself.

When I'd woken up this morning; I'd looked in the mirror and wondered if this would be the day my eyes got more life in them. I'd then scoffed at the mirror; I wondered that every morning. Today wasn't supposed to have been any different. I was supposed to be skating by. I was supposed to just be living my life. Not trying to break away from the crowd. I was trying to stay with the grain of the crowd. I was treading water. Not waiting necessarily to drown; but, not expecting to be pulled to the surface and walk on top of the water, either.

I was fighting a losing battle against my will. My head was telling me to run for the hills; and, my heart was telling me to stay. I realized belatedly that my two sides—fearless and pessimistic—were really my head and my heart.

When I was in the tree earlier; my heart had known I needed someone like Edward in those moments. My head had disagreed vehemently. My head knew that I wasn't ready to see my life from a different perspective. My spirit was willing. But my flesh was weak.

"What's the matter?" Edward asked, biting his bottom lip. "If it really was just the name-thing, I'm sorry. I should've thought before I spoke."

"It's not just that," I said. I knew my voice was devoid of emotion.

"What is it then?" He pressed. I looked up at his face. Taking in every expression mingled in his acid green eyes. His face was serious; it was wrought upon his features. But his eyes conveyed a different emotion entirely. I briefly wondered how he controlled his expression so seamlessly—but I then realized that his eyes were just as intent as his face was. They just showed a larger amount of sentiment than his face would.

I shook my head, "It's everything." I whispered.

He raised his eyebrows and started chewing at his lower lip again. My eyes were wandering again. To the window. It was always out the window. The outside that drew my attention.

It was drizzling again. The sky still looked like it could pour at any moment. My emotion was true to the atmosphere. Stormy.

"Let's get out of here," he said shooting a harried glance over his shoulder at the kitchen and its eavesdropping occupants.

I nodded, still absorbed in my thoughts.

Edward slouched into the kitchen, trying to look nonchalant. I followed; not even trying to look like anything. I looked zoned out. That was good enough. I constantly vacated my head; no one would know the difference.

"What's going on?" I heard Alice ask. She looked between us worriedly, obviously ticked by the fact that she hadn't been able to hear a word of our previous conversation. I was smug about the fact that she was oblivious.

"Oh, Bella and I are going down to the convenience store to buy dish-soap," Edward said, shrugging. He dug his hands into his deep pockets and smiled.

I nodded, trying to look convincing. I had a feeling Alice and Jasper were scrutinizing Edward's expression more so than mine; so I was safe. I nudged him silently towards the door. He nodded and leaned over to pick up his umbrella, idly twirling it on the tip of his pointer finger.

Once outside, he popped the umbrella open; and, held it over my head.

"You aren't going to go psycho on me, are you?"

Oh. He was talking to me, wasn't he?

Was I going to go insane standing on my own front porch?

He put his hand on the small of my back and began walking. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I realized that had I been completely 'there' his contact would have bothered me.

"No," I managed to say.

"Are you sure?" He asked, eyebrows puckering.

I wasn't sure. That was the thing.

I took a deep breath. Steady now, Bella. I wasn't supposed to be losing it. I was glad for the rain; it was cool and hard against my skin. And the cold served to clear my head.

"Yeah, I am," I sighed. "I was just—thinking," I said scrunching up my nose.

He leaned the umbrella over, so it was tilted over my head; giving me a space free of wetness. I looked up at him. Coming to my senses, I was very aware that he was close enough to me that I could feel is warm breath against my cold, damp hair.

I took a step backwards and he laughed quietly, reaching out his hand so his umbrella was still over my head.

"Sorry, you have a personal space thing, don't you?" He smiled, vaguely amused.

I did have a personal space thing. But, why would he care? It wasn't like he respected it. He was always standing close. The first time I thought of him as a human was right after he'd laughed so close to my ear it sounded like the sound came from inside my head rather than mere inches from it.

"Yeah, I do," I said warily.

He smiled and made an attempt to press the umbrella into my hand. I pushed his hand pack towards him; so the umbrella hovered over his head.

"You deserve a little bit of shelter," I said, sighing, "you'll catch a cold, considering you lack proper footwear."

I wondered if he would be upset that I'd pointed this fact out. He might be sensitive about it.

He smiled a half-smile, one side of his mouth twitching up in humor. "I've gone this long without shoes; I don't think I'll die because of it today."

"How long have you gone without shoes?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"A while," he retorted, shrugging and stepping closer to me, so we were both covered by the umbrella. "Don't freak out, I figured this way, we could both stay dry."

I snorted, and crossed my arms. I guess that was a good compromise. He needed to stay dry, and I need to stay dry. I shrugged and started walking, my gate quick; but, he seemed competent to keep my pace.

We walked in silence for a while. My curiosity was raging as to why he didn't have shoes. He seemed too sophisticated to be homeless.

"You look like you have something to ask," he said smiling down at me.

I did have something to ask. But, how the heck would he have known that?

I scrunched my nose up and kept walking. Trying to figure out how to phrase my question without coming off as rude. It wasn't going to be easy. How do you ask someone if they had a home—and sound pleasant about it?

There really was no way to beat around the bush, was there?

I finally decided to phrase it more of a statement. An evasive statement. Sort of let him tell what he was willing to tell. I slowed my pace and racked my brain for something inventive to say that wouldn't come off as callous.

"You know," I began, not daring to look up at his radioactively green eyes, "most stores have a 'no shirt, no shoes, no service' policy."

He chucked. "You're really that curious about why I'm not wearing shoes aren't you?"

Darn. I was. But, I didn't particularly want him to figure that out so fast. Oh well, no use in beating around the bush now.

"Yes," I whispered back, not sure why I couldn't muster a full-volume response.

He laughed again, "I'm not some psychopathic destitute, you know."

I nodded, raised my eyes to finally meet his. He was smiling. Good, I wasn't in trouble for my flippant remark.

"Would you be afraid if I said I didn't have a home?" He asked quietly, sadly.

I wasn't entirely sure if I would have been afraid or not. I didn't know the world well enough to know what it meant to not have a home. I'd never wanted for anything. My parents were fairly well off; I was raised in a good neighborhood, and got a scholarship to go to college. Alice's parents paid our rent, and we each had mediocre jobs. We got by. I didn't know what it was like to not have a home. I couldn't even imagine.

I then realized how completely different my world and Edward's world must be. It was like we were from different planets.

"I wouldn't be afraid," I said shrugging. I couldn't be afraid of something I didn't entirely understand.

He smiled and nodded once, "I'm not technically homeless, in the needy sense of the word. I chose this life for myself. I didn't want to stay in one place. I wanted to be able to travel. And as for my not wearing shoes, they wore out a couple of days ago. I figured I might as well go barefoot instead of walking around with shoes that had no soles."

I nodded.

"If it bothers you, I could buy myself shoes—it wouldn't be a problem. I just haven't really had the presence of mind to do it recently. I thought I should do it before I climbed that tree; but, it was just so inviting I had to climb it as soon as possible…and shoes just seemed like an afterthought."

I nodded again.

"Shall I buy myself shoes then?" He asked raising his eyebrows, he sounded slightly annoyed at my silence.

I shrugged, "It doesn't really matter to me. I was just worried about you."

Shoot. 'Worried about you'? How sappy was that? Where the heck did that come from? I had no idea.

His smiled warmed as I looked up at him in dawning horror. His eyes crinkled at the edges. I couldn't help but smile back briefly before smothering it into a more appropriate, emotionless mask.

"You don't have to worry, Isabella…" His voice trailed off like he was thinking very hard about something.

I exhaled loudly.

"Oh, sorry," I continued, looking at me with hazy eyes, "didn't mean to call you that. It just sort of slipped out."

"It's alright," I explained, "just don't let it happen again."

He nodded, "Ok…You still look curious." He pressed.

"I am," I said controlling the raging interest in my voice.

He dug his free hand deeply into his pocket, smiling a little as his fingers poked through a hole in the thigh of his jeans. "But you won't ask," he stated, "because you don't want to know the answer?"

He phrased it as a question. But it really wasn't an inquiry. He already knew the answer. I didn't want to know the answer. I was afraid of what I would think about him afterward.

I nodded.

"But that doesn't stop how curious you are," he smiled, and bent his head to look at me, is eyes nearly right on top of mine.

"No, it doesn't," I said, blowing out my breath.

He closed his eyes. "I chose to not live in one place because I couldn't stand it." His whole body trembled and his voice lowered to a whisper. "I guess, I am…a wanderer."

We stood quietly for a moment. The only noise was the tapping of raindrops on the polyester surface of his umbrella.

Edward started to walk before I did. His pace was easy enough to keep; it was slower than mine—I had to slow down a bit. I was so used to getting from place to place at my extreme speed. Edward seemed plenty at ease to stop and smell the roses.

I sighed, trying to take in the scenery like normal people did. It was harder than it looked. Harder than it should have been.

"So, what's your major?" He asked casually.

What was my major, even? It was something unremarkable—unremarkable enough that through my hazy mind I couldn't remember what it was.

Some adventurous part of me had signed up for teacher's school. That was right. I'd one day hoped to be a teacher. It was a useless dream. I was comfortable enough to talk intently to one or two people; but, a room full of people was a different story. I would freeze and my palms would start to get clammy and my throat would close up, making it utterly impossible to talk. Yeah, I'd make a great teacher.

"I'm learning to be a teacher," I answered stupidly and uneasily.

He nodded, reading the resistance in my eyes. He said nothing else, letting our stolen time together slip into silence. Our footsteps sloshed in rhythm. His bare feet made a smacking sound against the wet pavement; mine splashed a little more. The hems of both of our pants were soaking.

I was glad he had given me silence. I needed to think about that brief glimpse into Edward's life.

'I am…a wanderer', he had said. A wanderer. No set home, traveling on a whim, living off of what little money accumulated.

No set home.

It rang in my head. It burned behind my eyes to think about it.

I bit my bottom lip, glad when the pain severed my thoughts.

"So, I actually have no idea where we're going …so I kind of need you to snap out of your deliberation so we can find a convenience store."

It was then that I realized we'd been walking in the wrong direction. I blinked a few times, gaining my bearings. The store was in the complete opposite direction.

"It's back the other way," I murmured, blushing. He ducked his head to hide his smile; but, he couldn't hide the humor in his voice when he spoke, "I guess you really do lose yourself when you're thinking."

I harrumphed.

He chuckled lowly and turned around wheeling me with him. He happily chattered the entire way to the store.

He had an opinion about everything, I soon realized. He chatted about the weather, about college, about the pizza, about my life, but never did he mention anything about himself.

I dared to ask several questions; but, he easily dodged them. It was like he'd revealed too much already and was loath to do it anymore. Loath to get in over his head.

I was terrified that he was going to just disappear again. I wouldn't have been able to deal with that. But if he did wander, then he wouldn't be able to stay in one place for very long. He wouldn't have wanted to be tied down anywhere.

Our convenience store was located on the far end of one of the local strip centers. Several people dodged in and out, of the building, umbrellas in hand. A young man ducked out of a building looking up at the angry sky, and the torrential rainfall coming from it. He pulled a young woman out of the store with him, his hand wound tightly around hers. They pressed against the store wall trying to get as much shelter as they could.

Her face fell as she matched his gaze at the sky.

Edward frowned.

"C'mon," he said, putting his hand on the small of my back; I flinched. "Sorry," he muttered.

He pulled me forward at a fast pace while the man standing below the overhang took his jacket off and pulled his girlfriend closer to his side, putting the coats over their heads.

"Wait!" Edward calling pulling me forward by the front of my jacket now; I tried to struggle away. He was too strong—it was useless to fight.

The young man looked up, bewildered. He blinked a few times, his girlfriend pressed closer against his side; she whispered something frantically up to him.

I shot Edward a questioning look. He sighed, and then looked down at me with sober eyes.

We had reached the young couple by now. I realized that the boy looked about my age, the girl probably a couple years younger. She had wide, frightened brown eyes with which she gazed at Edward and me.

"Here, take this. You need it more than we do," Edward pressed his umbrella into the young man's hand, and took a step away, lowering his now free hand to grab onto mine. He wound his fingers tightly around my palm, it would have been impossible to jerk away.

The young man looked up at him, startled. He managed to smile once before nodding and looking down at his girlfriend, and smiling wider, "Thanks, man, you didn't have to do that!"

Edward shrugged, and shook his head, raindrops flew from the inky strands, "You looked like you could use a bit of sun in this rain," he pulled me sharply away, my eyes still locked on the young couple in awe.

Edward startled to whistle as he walked away, I pulled my hand away from his.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, not unkindly.

He shrugged again, sliding both his hands into his pockets and smiling up at the sky, still whistling, "Like I said, they looked like they could use a little sun."

"So you decided to be sunny for them?" I asked sarcastically.

He nodded smiling, his eyes opened and they were completely serious despite the happy expression on his face, "Does it bother you?"

Did it bother me? I was slightly annoyed that we were both soaked, and now had absolutely no shelter from the rain; but, other than that I was just absolutely astonished that chivalry wasn't dead.

I was…bemused.

"What?" He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. The white skin over his nose puckered.

"Nothing," I shrugged; it thundered again, somewhere in the distance. Edward sighed and I cringed a little unconsciously pressing closer to him.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"I…don't like thunderstorms…" My voice trailed off. I flinched when the lighting stuck again, followed by the thunder. It was one of those cracking noises that made my chest cavity rattle.

He nodded, and pointed to the door we stood next to, "This a good place to find dish soap?" He asked.

I nodded, still glancing up at the sky every few seconds, mentally calculating how far away the thunder was.

He pulled me by the elbow into the tiny store. Unfamiliar music played over the radio, the inside was cold—the air conditioner was on full-blast. The linoleum tiles by the threshold were pooling with murky, disgusting-looking water.

Edward hauled me to Isle 3, where he grabbed a bottle of bluish dish soap.

"Here, look it says 'Extreme Grease-Fighter' on the bottle. Good, this stuff has some kick to it; it might survive the battle with your dishes!"

"Ha ha," I said sardonically.

He shrugged. He walked over to the checkout counter and set the bottle down digging through his pockets. The woman behind the counter looked like she was trying too hard. I knew Edward was a rather handsome young man; but, did she really have to bat her eyes at him? Her finger nails were obviously fake—I could tell, because they were bright fuchsia, and stuck out three inches from the tips of her fingers—her eyes were caked with too much makeup and she smelled of cigarette smoke.

She smiled appreciatively at Edward. He looked at her confusedly. He pulled out the entire contents of his back pocket and set it on the counter. He had two pennies, a nickel, several quarters and a manifold of pocket lint.

"That'll be 3.99," the woman said in a flirty, high voice. She blew a bubble with her bubble gum. I gagged.

Edward counted his money twice, I had quickly, mentally calculated it before he had counted the first time; he had a grand total of 82 cents.

I sighed, and dug through my pockets handing the cashier a five-dollar bill. She sneered in my general direction and took the folded piece of paper out of my hand. Edward smiled sheepishly at me as he replaced the money in his pocket.

He grabbed the plastic bag off the counter and glanced at me as we walked out of the store.

The rain had let up a little, I sighed graciously. I was truly glad; considering Edward had given away our only form of true shelter.

"Sorry you had to pay for it," Edward said indicating to the plastic bag.

I shrugged, "You're the one washing dishes…I should be paying your for the maid services."

He laughed.

His laugh was liquid. At least, that how I would have described it. Not a very good adjective. But, that's what his laugh made me think of. It seemed perfectly fitted to him. The way he threw his head back a little and closed his eyes, smiling before breaking out into a peel of laughter.

I guess I was impressed by it. I'd never really thought of someone's laughter as being fake before. Edward's laughter seemed so real, so true. It made the mindless chuckling I did sometimes seem so hollow. He looked so free, so at ease, when he laughed. When you laugh you're supposed to not have a care in the world. But, sometimes people forget that. They think about too much, and it makes them not be able to truly laugh anymore. But, Edward broke the trend. He hadn't lost the ability to laugh with reckless abandon.

We walked a bit in silence.

My mind was still light years away. I was thinking about Edward. Not specifically the person. His over-active sense of gallantry, rather. He was always polite. He was always kind. I had this skewed vision of him slaying a dragon for any random damsel in distress, and then leaving before he could get any proper credit—unwilling to draw attention to himself for a deed that should have been done, but no one else had had the time or propriety to do so.

I was suddenly overwhelmed by how truly small and selfish I was.

I didn't think.

My heart didn't give my head time to.

My heart reacted; and, acted of its own accord—not even daring to allow my head to throw in a single complaint. My heart laughed hearty and threw and apologetic look to my head; before acting and someone else reached forward and grabbed Edward's hand.

She grabbed his hand and I couldn't believe she had.

It felt surreal.

He looked at me questioningly, raising an eyebrow and pressing his lips together in a tight line, "Personal space?"

I shrugged. Personal space was then thrown out the window. I watched it shatter into a million pieces.

"Just shut up and c'mon," I muttered, hauling him down the sidewalk in front of the strip-mall.

"What are we doing?" He asked, a little confused.

I was more confused; but, my body seemed to be moving of its own accord. It was like falling from the tree all over again—only this time I felt like I was in even less control.

I made the snappy comeback of, "You need shoes."

He laughed, "Yes, I do; but, what does that have to do with anything?"

"We're getting you some proper shoes," I retorted, my patience with this was dwindling. Why did he have to question my newfound spontaneity?

"But…why?" He asked, stopping dead in his tracks. His hand relaxed within mine, and went entirely limp. His strength was too much for me—no matter how hard I pulled at his limp hand, he wouldn't budge.

"Don't tell me you've already forgotten your philosophy?"

He exhaled, and closed his eyes.

"What?" I asked, pulling my hand away and crossing my arms across my chest.

"I didn't think you'd be the type of person who would do things like that…just to make people smile." He answered quietly.

I narrowed my eyes. Now, what was that supposed to mean? I knew he didn't mean it to be tongue in cheek; but, I couldn't help but let my expression fall.

He sighed, "I'm sorry."

I clamped my mouth shut for fear it would betray me. My head was starting to function again, and it was arguing at full volume with my heart. How could it be so reckless! We knew it would turn out this way. Knew that he would pull his hand away the moment we touched him; why did you put yourself on the line that way?

"I guess, I'm not used to people showing me kindness," he murmured.

"I'm surprised," I replied, "shouldn't people repay kindness with kindness?"

He shrugged, "They usually don't."

"I don't really understand that," I said truthfully, "why not…the world is losing its sanity."

He chuckled.

I continued, "They all say I'm losing my mind—but, I wonder is it really me?" That would have been a novel idea, "Is it really just that? That everyone's so far absorbed into their own selfish desires that they don't truly see when someone's in need? And then when someone with propriety comes along—they shun him!

"It really doesn't make sense. How could it! We're too far lost. Human life isn't deteriorating physically, it's mentally that's the problem!" I proclaimed, waving my arms.

He smiled widely, "And then when a young woman comes along and shows someone kindness, they don't know how to react."

"No, when a young man comes along and gives away his umbrella, that's when they realize that chivalry isn't dead!"

And then, we both laughed. For a long time, we stood in the middle of the sidewalk laughing. I fell to my knees; I was shaking so hard from the laughter. I had humorous tears glinting in my eyes by the time we both caught our breath.

"I don't even know why we're laughing," I said, through gasping breaths.

He nodded, "Neither do I; but, it feels so darn good doesn't it?!"

I nodded. Yes, yes it did.

* * *

**I'm very thankful to everyone who has expressed interest in this story. Please keep reviewing and telling your friends about it! **

**Go check out my other stories if you have the time. I have acouple of one-shots as well as Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, another full-length story!**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"Isabella!" A gravelly sounding voice bellowed. I blinked, startled. **

**I was suddenly spinning around my feet swinging out in dangerous proximity with the surrounding furniture. **

**"What the heck?" I asked, winded. I could feel Edward relax in the doorway. If I wasn't screaming by now-with someone holding me around the waist and spinning me like a driedel--then I was probably alright. **

**"What, I can't come to visit my baby sister?" He asked, his voice far too loud that close to my ear. He was unbelievably brawny, and had gotten taller.**


	5. Fraternal

**Chapter 5: Fraternal**

Watching Edward wash dishes was rather interesting. He was quite proficient at his task—and he put his entire heart into scrubbing the strange, green protrusions from our dishes and cutlery. Within the first twenty minutes he had quickly and efficiently cleared out his first two stacks of dirty plates, and was starting in on the third.

He hummed a strange tune while he worked, his arms very nearly elbow deep in sudsy water. He laughed whenever he splashed water all over himself. I had to notice how light-hearted he was about it. The few—and truly, they were few; I could count them on one hand—times I'd washed dishes, whenever I splashed water all down my shirt, I'd cursed.

Alice had dragged Jasper off to the movies, so I was alone with Edward. I could tell that Ali still didn't trust Edward. Neither did I for that matter; however, I knew where my pepper spray was, and I also had a very crippling knee thrust—which I would call upon if need be.

I sighed. The rain had let up a little. I wanted to go into the living room and turn on the Weather Channel; but, by all accounts I still didn't trust Edward enough to let him stay in my kitchen. Alone.

He laughed softly. "I can feel your eyes in the back of my skull."

And so what if I was staring at him? Honestly. Could he seriously feel me looking at him? Or was he just guessing?

I harrumphed and crossed my arms over my chest.

Edward started to hum again, and this time I recognized it as the song he was whistling outside the convenience store.

Edward had a nice voice. A more boyish version of the generic TV announcer voice. It was sultry and low—like he spoke from the back of his throat or deep from his chest.

"Stop staring at me," he laughed, rinsing a fork.

"I'm not staring at you!" I lied.

He turned to look over his shoulder, and nodded, "Yes you are."

"Am not!" I retorted. "Leave me alone, I'm doing my homework!"

I grabbed my book bag off the floor and tore the zipper open. Praise be to God, my books really weren't that badly soaked. The tops had some rain water seeping into them—but, it seemed the outer shell of my bag took the brunt of it.

I sighed, might as well look at my history homework. Ali was still having issues with it when I got home; so Jasper just told her to quit and then ask for my help later on tonight.

The homework really wasn't that hard. Alice was being overdramatic about it. She was scatterbrained; and, so I guess finding the correct answer really was hard for her. I finished my homework in five minutes, glad that I had done a goodly portion of it in class.

I grabbed Alice's book from across the table and looked at her paper. I smiled to myself; her handwriting still had the curlicue-style of a girl in middle school. In comparison to my chicken scratch it looked like calligraphy.

The questions that were troubling her were fairly easy. I sighed to myself; she probably wasn't paying attention in class. I tried to remember what we'd talked about this morning. I know she'd said something about her date last night. Something Jasper had said…I didn't remember. But, she was excited about it nonetheless, so when we got to history—our first class of the day—she was barely able to sit still.

As the day progressed, and we had classes away from each other, she mellowed out a little.

I looked up at Edward. He had the sleeves of his red, flannel shirt pushed up; I could tell there were holes in the elbows of his shirt. The back of his shirt was torn too. I could see the faded black of the T-shirt he wore under it. His hair, sticking up in odd angles, was matted with pine needles. I wondered how I hadn't noticed that before. I mean, I knew he was dirty. But, he really did need a shower.

He washed the plates quietly for a while; with me staring surreptitiously at his back.

He was finishing up the last stack of plates when someone knocked at the door. Who in the world was knocking at two college girl's door at nearly 8 o'clock at night?

I was suddenly very glad that I had Edward here. And at the moment he was washing a very large, sharp meat cleaver…why Ali and I had a meat cleaver was beyond me; but, in the end it looked foreboding and with Edward wielding it, it should scare off whoever was standing on our front step.

Edward turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows. He met my bewildered look and nodded, trotting after me and hovering in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

Whoever it was was rather impatient because in the two minutes it took me to gather my courage; they were banging relentlessly at our wooden door.

I threw a frantic glance over my shoulder at Edward; he clenched his jaw tightly and met my look with somber, green eyes. He nodded again. Reassuring me.

I unlocked the deadbolt and braced myself, heart pounding a hasty rhythm against my ribs. I took a deep breath as I pulled the door towards myself, completely sure that if I didn't want to see the person on the other side I would throw the door back in their face and flail my weight at it as I relocked the door.

I saw a blur of mused, dark brown hair and a hulky figure move forward at a startling pace. The next thing I knew I was in the air trying to breathe against the vice grip against my waist.

"Isabella!" A gravelly sounding voice bellowed. I blinked, startled.

I was suddenly spinning around my feet swinging out in dangerous proximity with the surrounding furniture.

"What the heck?" I asked, winded. I could feel Edward relax in the doorway. If I wasn't screaming by now—with someone holding me around the waist and spinning me like a driedel—then I was probably alright.

"What, I can't come to visit my baby sister?" He asked, his voice far too loud that close to my ear. He was unbelievably brawny, and had gotten taller.

I smiled, and reached up on my tip-toes to give him a better hug, "It's good to see you, Emmett."

Emmett, my eldest brother, had the look of a star football player—but lacked the athletic talent. He was over a head taller than I, and probably weighed one hundred more pounds: all of it pure muscle. He liked to work out, in hopes of cultivating the ability to perform well on the football field. He never really did gain an ounce of aptitude; but, at the very least he could wow all the girls with his impressive biceps. One of his favourite activities while I was in high school was to allow me to do my homework seated on his back while he did push-ups.

He smiled a sheepish smile; despite his intimidating appearance, he was very shy—and really only came to life around his family. "Mary's not here, is she?" He asked. He also had to tendency to call everyone by their proper name; no matter how many hissy fits they threw.

I shook my head, "Nope. She and Jasper went to the movies."

He smiled wider, "So you're here all by yourse—" his voice cut off as he looked over my shoulder, catching sight of Edward lingering in the doorway. Emmett's expression was a mingled mix of disbelief and anxiety. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You're not alone," he whispered.

"No," I breathed.

His brain clicked, and I groaned, "Honestly Emmett, it's seriously not like you think!"

"Like heck it's not!" He retorted; his overprotective streak rearing its head. Like me, Emmett seemed to have a bit of a dual personality. Perhaps that's why out of all my siblings, I identified with him the most. I idly wondered if his overprotective side was his head or his heart—seeing as my dual sides seemed to stem from those two places.

"Um…hello?" Edward offered, striding forward and holding out his hand to be shaken.

"Who are you?" Emmett asked edgily, crossing his arms over his chest, making a show to flex his muscles before doing so. His lips were drawn in a fine line and he glared at Edward. He seemed half embarrassed that he had been to jubilant in front of someone other than immediate family—and half utterly annoyed that I was alone in my house. With a boy.

"I'm Edward," Edward replied raising an eyebrow, and wiping the excess water and soap from his hands on his muddy pants.

"No, I didn't mean your name, I meant who are you, to Bells?" Emmett emphasized the 'to' way too much. Good Lord, Em! He wasn't anything to me. But, I don't think either of us wanted to say: 'Well, he some guy I met in a tree earlier today and now he's at my house washing my dishes!'.

"A friend," Edward said softly, looking at me with absent, green eyes.

"Bella doesn't make friends very easily," Emmett said, I choked—honestly, did he have to open that can of worms?—he continued, "she's been gone for barely two months…how long have you two been 'friends'?"

I could hear him put mental quotation marks around the word.

"A while," Edward said. Good. He was being evasive; his eyes took in all six feet four inches of Emmett, and then grazed over his shoulder to look into my eyes. His eyes, were smiling; even if it didn't touch his lips.

I smiled in return.

Emmett harrumphed, and turned to look at me. His eyes were questioning. I quickly smothered my smile; and shrugged at him. It was his choice to believe Edward or not; and I wasn't going to indulge in the subject any further.

"Have you eaten, Em?" I asked, quickly changing the subject. Edward turned back to the kitchen and I heard the faucet turn on as he went back to his task.

"Nope," Emmett seemed to relax once Edward was out of the room. He sighed, and his thick, dark eyebrows drew over his nose, "Bells?" He whispered.

"Drop it, Em," I whispered back, shaking my head. "He's just an acquaintance, I don't know him very well, he brought me my book bag this afternoon and then offered to wash our dishes; that's all."

Emmett bent his head to whisper in my ear, "You would tell me if he was your boyfriend, right?" He pulled back a little so I could see his expression; one side of his lips twitched up into an uneven smile, "'Cause I do want to keep my inquisitorial 'big brother is watching' role."

I nodded, "You can play Spanish Inquisition to any boy I date; but, you don't have to worry about Edward—that's for sure."

He nodded, finally believing me.

He walked into the kitchen, making it completely obvious he was going to be ignoring Edward for the remainder of the evening. From the look of amusement on Edward's face it seemed he would be laughing if not for the fact that laughing at Emmett would probably get him a broken neck.

I ended up heating Emmett up some of the left over spaghetti. We talked quietly for a while, he mainly asked questions about college. And, kept shifting his eyes over his shoulder to where Edward stood still humming and scrubbing industriously at one of the last stacks of dishes.

"Em," I muttered.

He looked up from slurping spaghetti, he quirked an eyebrow.

"Thanks," I whispered, looking at him with somber eyes.

He seemed to understand my sentiments. He knew I was glad that he was there—not just in my home at that moment; but, always there. He was my guardian angle right here on earth. He knew I thought of him like that.

And, in turn I knew he too worried about me.

'I can't always be your guard,' he told me this summer. 'Someday, you'll find someone else. Someone better.'

I didn't want someone better. I wanted to stay exactly where I was. Forget monopolizing Emmett. He would deal.

I looked up at Edward, wondering about him. He seemed so mysterious. I wondered what was going through his mind. Why he'd chosen to stay and wash our dishes. People weren't that kind.

"You ok?" Emmett asked, finally glancing over his shoulder and glaring at Edward.

I snapped to attention, "Yeah, I'm alright."

Emmett relaxed a bit; but, the way he held his back and shoulders made me realize he was still tensed for a fight. I smiled halfheartedly. My loveable oaf of a brother really had no idea just how glad I was that I had him here as a bodyguard. I needed some security. I really needed it.

Edward wasn't what frightened me.

I frightened me.

I could smell that a change in me was imminent. And that terrified me.

I could feel it encroaching, like the dark veil of a moonless night. I didn't want to be in the dark. I didn't want to change. I wasn't ready for it. But, it wasn't something I could fight, now was it?

It was a losing battle.

Who could fight destiny?

I wasn't strong enough—and I knew the pain that was wrenching my heart at that moment was just a foreshadowing of what was about to come. I was going to be too lost to fight. Destiny was going to win. And Bella was going to be gone. Bella was going to lose.

* * *

**So, I love stories where Emmett is Bella's big brother. If I had a brother, I'd want him to be like Emmett. (I don't have a brother, by the way. Just an older sister. She's awesome, though.)**

**I had an anonymous reviewer ask me about my pen name, and because it was an anonymous review, I couldn't reply, so I'll tell everybody here: "voi ch'intrate" is from the bigger quote "lasciate ogni speranzo, voi ch'intrate". It's from Dante's _The Inferno _and it's what's insribed above the gates of hell, it means: "abandon all hope, ye who enter here." I've always liked The Inferno, so when it came time to get a pen name, paying homage to Dante just seemed like a cool thing to do.**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"Are you alright?" Professor Cullen asked amiably. **

**I nodded, and shoved my books into my bag.**

**He leaned back against the desk he stood by, his deft fingers curling around the dark wood of the top, "Something must be bothering you."**

**"It's nothing," I muttered. He really did surprise me sometimes. He seemed to really take a personal liking to his students; instead of a just a name on the role-call he seemed to like to get to know them. **


	6. Fiction

**Chapter 6: Fiction**

The aftermath of the rain was mud. Lots and lots of mud. The minute I opened my door, I smelled it. A funky, musky smell of soil mixed with rain water.

I stood in the doorway for a while thinking about the happenings of the previous evening.

Edward had left promptly at nine. I walked him to the door; wondering what parting words he would have.

He had smiled, and then looked over my shoulder at Emmett; whom was not even trying to be inconspicuous about his spying, and shook his head. He was close enough that I could smell him. I had to admit the smell emanating from him wasn't half bad. He smelled like pine needles and men's deodorant.

His feet were still bare, which irked me; but, we'd both been so filled with laughter after our dish soap shopping escapade that neither of us had had the presence of mind to go to the shoe store. He's sensed what I was thinking and he had smiled, "I've lived this long…" He reminded me.

I didn't like that. Not really. But I wasn't going to argue with his logic.

"Well, Isabella," he said, keeping his voice low and away from the waiting ears of my own personal watchdog, "have a good night."

I had to say, it was anticlimactic. I didn't know what I was expecting. Something a little more, I guess.

He closed the door in my still-bemused face, and I realized that I never was going to see him again.

Emmett had left shortly after that, taking the half hour drive back to his own family. His other family. Back to his wife and soon-to-be child. I smiled briefly at the thought of my brother being a father. In many ways, he'd been father-like to me. He was eight years my senior and had been my own personal bodyguard throughout my childhood.

I had two other older brothers besides him—and, to their credit they always showed up as backup whenever I picked fights in school—but, Emmett was my confidant. And, one of his greatest achievements, in my eyes, was being my substitute prom date my senior year. Whatever had motivated him to waste his evening accompanying his little sister to her prom, had left me with the profound impression that I was, at least, worth someone's time. Considering the rest of the male population had chickened out at the prospect of inviting me to one of the greatest events in our high school careers.

I sighed, and ran over the rest of the evening in my head. I was already in bed by the time Jasper had brought Alice home. I heard them on the front step—but, I'd rolled over and tried to ignore them.

Alice left before me, so I was alone in my ponderings. I sucked in a breath and shifted my feet within my rubber rain boots. No use fighting the inevitable, I was going to have to go out into the mud sometime.

I walked out and started stomping to my first class of the day. I passed Alice and Jasper on my way to the science building. They were seated side by side on one of the low park benches on campus; heads bent close together. I ignored them. No use making myself feel queasy watching them be mushy.

My first class was my science lab. I sat at the high, black-topped table in the back of the room and adjusted my reading glasses on the bridge of my nose. My classmates soon began to file into the classroom. My lab partner, Eric, was a portly, bookish, young organic chemistry major. He was the type who wore his white, lab coat wherever he went. He didn't even acknowledge me as he walked past me to claim his seat.

No one in science class liked me very much. I was known for pushing the boundaries of everyone else's scientific thoughts. I was the only professing creationist in my class. I was quite vocal about my opinions—thankfully in college people didn't pick fights with me about my beliefs.

Class was boring. I took notes on the lecture, barely able to keep from falling asleep.

It was way too hard to keep my eyes focused on the front of the room where my professor stood. I refused to give in and look to the outside. I refused to let myself have that kind of a commodity.

The lecture went on as I sat tiredly at my table seemingly fascinated by the microscope.

I sighed when we were finally released from class. I had one more class before I had to report to my job.

English, my next class, was also my favourite. Our current project was to rewrite a classic as it would be in modern times. I'd chosen Pride and Prejudice. Elizabeth Bennett had always been close to my heart. She and I were similar in many ways. The only difference was that she had given in to her heart in the end; and, I never would. Considering Mr. Darcy didn't really exist. He was fictional. Purely fictional. There really was no man out there like him. Hats off to Jane Austin for creating the perfect guy for me; he just had to be on paper. He couldn't be real. Stupid fiction. How utterly, ridiculously sad.

It was too hard too keep my eyes on my paper. It was too hard, because I was just across the courtyard from the big oak tree.

It majestically dominated our campus, gnarled branches spreading out like a mother eagle's wings, striving to protect her young.

I imagined how I must have looked perched on those strong branches. Strong, beautiful, wild. A young tigress that was assessing her prey. And then, there was Edward and his cat-like green eyes. The grand, old tiger perched above the young one, waiting with a reprimanding smile and a waiting stance, ready to launch to the little one's aid if ever she needed him.

I sighed and resumed my writing; taking notes quickly, trying to flesh out my modernized Elizabeth Bennett.

As I'd been writing my story—I'd realized that the more I wrote about Elizabeth Bennett, the more I realized I was fashioning her character after my own. Her blatant disregard for men in general, her need to feel independent, and her unwavering sense of justice for those she loved.

I sighed and snapped my notebook shut; tired of having to think about anything definite. I doodled on the cover and felt like I was in seventh grade again. I realized that I would be horrified if I started to write Edward's name in bubble letters, so as a prevention method I tossed my pen on the table in front of me.

"Miss Swan," a voice said. I groaned a little internally.

"Yes, Professor Cullen?" I asked, trying not to sound too worried.

"Are you even working on the assignment?"

My English professor was a kindly man, with a fascinating English accent. He was my favourite professor. He had the look of someone's father—the father that might be the type to go sky-diving.

"Not really," I admitted quietly, shrugging my shoulders.

He sighed, and flipped open the cover to my notebook. He leaned over to study the newly written pages; his rectangular glasses sliding down his thin nose.

"This is good, Miss Swan, very good; but, I've to wonder—why did you stop?"

I shrugged again, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"Answer me, Miss Swan," he said softly.

"I'm having trouble concentrating." I confessed.

He sighed, "Well, trouble or not, this is class Miss Swan and you must get some work done."

I nodded and picked up my pen again, continuing my cross-examination of Elizabeth's motives.

He pursed his lips and walked to the front of the room.

Class drew out longer than I had anticipated. With only the sound of pens scratching across the surface of notebook paper I soon grew wary and was really unable to keep my attention focused on my task.

I started writing more about Edward than Mr. Darcy.

I sighed when Professor Cullen dismissed us. I, of course, dropped my books in the process of getting up. I sighed and resigned to picking them up as my classmates side-stepped around me and snickered.

I was reminded of the Good Samaritan. Only, my Samaritan didn't really exist, I was the destitute man on the side of the road suffering while everyone else worried about their own miniscule problems.

"Are you alright?" Professor Cullen asked amiably.

I nodded, and shoved my books into my bag.

He leaned back against the desk he stood by, his deft fingers curling around the dark wood of the top, "Something must be bothering you."

"It's nothing," I muttered. He really did surprise me sometimes. He seemed to really take a personal liking to his students; instead of a just a name on the role-call he seemed to like to get to know them.

Perhaps it was from his reading our writings. Writing our hearts and our feelings out on paper—everyone needs to vent once and a while—and he seemed to be the brunt of emotionally written papers; so he got to know his students personally whether he liked it or not.

"I've just got a lot on my mind is all," I deadpanned.

He nodded and didn't press any farther. I was glad he didn't.

The sky looked ominous again. I cringed when I stepped outside. I had no umbrella, and I most certainly wasn't going to be using my book bag as an umbrella again. Great lot of good that did me the last time!

Who would I have met then? Perhaps I wouldn't have met another creepy boy under another tree!

I walked home at a brisk pace. Going over my schedule in my head. Get ready for my waitressing job; go do said job, and then come home. I, by the grace of God, didn't have any homework.

I went home quickly to change into the dress-code black slacks and white shirt for my job at Mario's. I hated working in the same place as Jasper; but, our shifts rarely overlapped, and he was the delivery boy and I a mere waitress. Even when we did work at the same time, our paths rarely crossed.

Alice was sprawled across the couch when I came home. She had her book strewn across her midsection and was watching a movie on the television.

"Working hard or hardly working?"

She smirked, "Hardly working. Off to la pizzeria magnifica?"

I shrugged, "Yep."

"You're in luck, Missy; you have the same shift as Jasper!"

I groaned; she laughed.

"Oh, by the way that letter came for you," she indicated over her shoulder to a small letter on the lamp stand by our couch.

It was written on lined paper, and was lacking an envelope; but, my name was scrawled across the front in pencil. I opened it warily:

_Isabella, thank you for taking in a stranger; and giving him a delicious meal and allowing him to give you something back in return._

I folded the paper, and stuffed it in the back pocket of my jeans. Alice looked at me questioningly and I ignored her.

For some bizarre, inexplicable reason it irked me that he had left me a note. It didn't seem like a good ending. Heck, it didn't even seem like a good beginning.

I wanted to know exactly what his intentions were. But, I wouldn't, I couldn't, and I wasn't going to put any effort into finding out.

If he really was just going to leave and never come back—if he wanted to be a big, bad wanderer, they why wouldn't he just wander right out of thoughts. Leave me alone!

I dressed in a hurry, eager to let my mind be consumed with my work. I walked into the back door and was met with the familiar smell of flour and tomato sauce.

"Hey there, Shortie," Mario greeted, inclining his currently Mohawk'd head.

"Hello," I greeted him, stashing my bag below the counter and grabbing my black apron and tying it tightly around my hips.

"Your favourite people are at Table 3," Mario said, inclining his head in Table 3's general direction.

I groaned it was Emmett and his wife, Rosalie.

"He's stalking me, I swear," I muttered to Mario. He laughed and threw a dough ball into the air catching it on his fists.

"He's worried about you and you know it," Mario was a pretty cool guy—and he was very observant.

I, however, knew why Emmett and Rose really were here. Emmett wanted to know if Edward had come back. I was just going to have to break the news to him, I didn't like Edward. Quite frankly Edward freaked me out. End of story. Edward could go back home and live his life instead of making sure I lived mine within the parameters he set for me.

"Hello, my name is Bella, I'll be your server today; can I get you all something to drink?" I tried to ask genially; but, ended up forcing a not-so-convincing smile.

"I'll have a Coke," Emmett said returning my smile, I turned to face my sister-in-law, "Me too," she agreed. She smiled at me a real smile—not to ridiculous forced smiles Emmett and I used.

I liked Rose. She was a whirlwind of a lady. Always doing something, always baking or cleaning or something; she was practically Betty Crocker. Her blonde hair was swept up into a messy bun at the nape of her neck and she wore a pretty floral shirt. She probably thought she didn't look presentable—but, everyone around her always thought she looked gorgeous. Her features were befitting of a runway model; but, she was far too modest for that.

"Ok," I said, keeping up my waitress guise, "I'll be right back with them."

I turned on my heel to walk away, still torn between being annoyed with Emmett and endeared that he felt the need to check in on me.

"What a lovely waitress we have," he said in a feigned whisper when I was about five feet away. Rosalie giggled. And, then I burst out laughing as I pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen.

"I'm going to have to fire you if you laugh at the customers," Mario warned, smiling.

"He made me laugh," I shot back, getting their drinks.

"Those two are some of my most valuable costumers, I can't afford you scaring them away," he mocked.

"Oh, just make your pizza and leave me alone," I quipped.

He chuckled as I pushed the door open with my hip and went to go serve the 'valuable customers'.

"So, what'll it be today?" I asked, pen at the ready.

"I'd like a medium pizza with peppers, olives, Italian sausage, mushroom, pepperoni and extra cheese," Emmett said folding his menu and setting it on the table in front of me, he looked to Rosalie, "I'd like the fettuccini."

I shook my head, "Emmett, you're not going to eat that entire pizza are you?"

He smiled too widely, "I sure am!"

I rolled my eyes, "You know Mario makes one heck of a pizza, a medium to him is probably an extra large to the run off the mill pizza joints."

He nodded enthusiastically.

I shot Rosalie an empathetic look; but, she just smiled.

I shook my head and walked back into the kitchen to relay the orders.

"Hey Bella!" Jasper greeted upon my entrance into the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes and gave my order to Mario, "Jasper," I nodded to him.

"It's good to see you too, Bells," he said sardonically. I sneered at him.

"Play nicely," Mario warned, jabbing the sauce ladle at us, "don't make me put you in separate corners."

"Any orders, Boss?" Jasper asked, deftly changing the subject.

"Yeah, a delivery out on Dover Road," Mario thrust his thumb over his shoulder at a waiting pizza box.

"Ok, I'm on it," Jasper said donning his ridiculous trucker hat and ducking out the back door, the pizza box tucked under his arm.

I shook my head.

"You should treat him a little nicer," Mario intoned.

"You don't understand," I said shaking my head so that my messy, long bangs fell over my eyes, "He tried to beat me to a bloody pulp in the first grade—we've been enemies every since!"

He sighed and chuckled a little, "Enemies or not—people should be open to change."

Change.

There that awful word was again!

"What would you know about change," I muttered, leaning against the wall.

"Well," Mario started—I had a miniature panic attack when I realized he'd heard me—"it's not my forte, that's for sure; but, the way I see it everybody has to change sooner or later."

I liked the 'later' part of that statement.

"Order's up," Mario said turning to me.

I realized I'd been lollygagging in the doorway for a while; I reached for the medium pizza and fettuccini and balanced the tray on my hip, pushing the door open.

"Here you are sir," I said setting the pizza tray in front of Emmett, and then turned to place Rosalie's plate before her, "ma'am."

"Thank you, Bells," Emma smiled.

"Just doing my job," I shrugged smiling back.

I turned to go; but, Emmett caught one of my apron strings.

"Yes?" I asked exasperatedly.

"That boy," Emmett prompted.

"Was just some guy I met early yesterday, who returned my book bag to me when I left it on campus and ended up washing our dishes, that's it."

He nodded.

"What boy?" Rosalie asked amid a bite of noodles.

"Just some guy I met yesterday, he means nothing to me."

"You're getting defensive about it," she pointed out with a smile.

I blushed and bit my tongue, she laughed, "I'm joking."

"It wasn't funny," I muttered.

"Yes it was," Em countered, biting into his pizza, "you should see the look on your face."

"Bella," I heard Mario call from the kitchen, "I don't pay you to fraternize with the costumers! Get to work!" I heard his booming laugh as he returned to pounding out a pizza crust.

I sighed, "Just call me if you need anything else."

They nodded and I walked away to complete my shift.

It was dark by the time I was done working. The moon was already at a 30 degree angle in the sky. I bade Mario farewell and walked out into the wind-chilled evening.

It was still unbelievably muddy and I didn't like that at all. In my Converse sneakers instead of my rain boots it really took its toll. I couldn't just slosh around in the mud puddles and not have a worry in the world. No, I had to be careful because if I got mud all over myself I was going to have to brave laundry for the second day in a row.

I came to the corner across from where my apartment complex began. I looked both ways leaning out from under the halo of light from the streetlamp. No incoming traffic this late at night in our sleepy little town.

I took the first daring step off the side walk and out into the grass over the shoulder of the road and slid against the inevitable muddy mess there.

I fell right on my back and slid several feet—coating myself thoroughly in mud.

I laid there for a while half in shock and repulsed with myself for being a clumsy idiot.

I put my dirty encrusted hands to my face and moaned.

I moaned not because I was covered in mud and wet and cold—but, because my mind had wandered again. Because I'd realized this was just the sort of thing Edward would laugh about.

* * *

**I don't know if I've said this before; but if I hadn't: Mario belongs to me and not Stephenie Meyer. Mario (his personality and mad pizza skills, not his gnarly appearance) is based on a guy who used to run a Italian restaurant in my town. He was awesome, made the best pizza. My family and his family got along really well. They had some family stuff back in Italy so they had to sell their restaurant... It really was sad...he had a cute Italian son my age... Anyways, I have no idea what that had to do with anything, just thought I'd share.**

**By a show of hands, who liked _Professor _Cullen. I needed a way to work Carlisle into this story. I love Carlisle. Also, I'm trying to show a different side of Rosalie than anyone else I've read. So, I'm making her not stuck-up and perfect. She's just a regular woman with a pretty face. That's also why Emmett sucks at sports, not everybody is perfect. Anywhoo--****I hope you guys are liking this story. :)**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**I sat up as Rosalie came into view.**

**"Oh, I didn't mean to wake you," she said softly.**

**I shook my head, dark hair reflecting off the dim light, "I was already awake."**

**She smiled sweetly, "Would you like to join me for a midnight snack?"**

**I shrugged and nodded, following her into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Tupperware container full of black olives. She took a seat at the kitchen table and beckoned for me to follow her lead.**


	7. Cold, Warmth

**Chapter 7: Cold, Warmth**

When I rolled over I looked out my window; my eyes traced the delicate, lacey patterns of frost splayed across the cool, glass surface. I groaned and rolled over, stuffing my face under my pillow and pulling my thick quilt up to my chin.

It was getting colder and colder every single day. I didn't particularly like it. It seemed like Jack Frost had been giving us all an overdose of winter weather. And it was only Thanksgiving—he should save the winter wonderland-ness for Christmas. Wasn't there some mantra that Christmas' should be white? Not Thanksgiving.

I spent my Thanksgiving break with Emmett and Rose. I did this for three reasons, the first being that Mario was short-handed, so I wanted to stay and help him out; second was because I wanted to help Emmett and Rosalie set up child-related paraphernalia in their home; and third was the worst: I wanted to see if Edward was going to show his sorry face ever again.

I threw a coat on over my work attire and slide out the door, locking it behind me. Alice had gone back home for the weekend, so I had the house to myself. It was nice, and quiet, and Jasper-free.

The frozen grass crunched beneath my shoes and I shuddered through the chilling wind. My breath fanned out before my lips like smoke.

"Hey there," Mario greeted from the vicinity of the stone ovens. I shivered in response and tore off my coat and scarf to go stand by the big black ovens.

"Cold, huh?" Mario laughed as he opened the door to shove an extra large in; I reveled in the blast of heat.

"It has no right to be this cold," I said, my teeth chattering.

Mario laughed, "I wonder when the first snow will be…"

"Never," I muttered hopefully.

Mario laughed, and reached under the counter and shoved my apron at me, "Get to work you slacker," he chuckled, "remember, I'm letting you off early this evening so you can go visit your family; so you might as well get as much work done as possible."

I nodded and took my apron from him.

The day was slow, most of the community college students had migrated home for the winter—or rather Thanksgiving; but, it would've been smarted to head for a warmer climate—and so, only the few residents of the town came out to brave the blizzard.

Mario had to remind me time and time again that it was, in fact, not a blizzard, just cold. It wasn't even snowing. In my opinion it might as well snow; because if it was going to be deathly cold, it might as well be deathly cold with a purpose.

I huddled into my jacket once my shifted ended, wrapping my scarf over my nose and mouth so my lungs wouldn't be pierced with the daggers of the icy wind. I moved quickly across the iced walkways and roads; thankful when I broke through my front door. I went to the phone and dialed Emmett's number.

"Hey," I greeted, "I'm off work—you wanna come pick me up?"

"Sure," his voice cracked through from the other line, and he hung up.

I dawdled on the couch for a while, twisting a half-eaten apple between my fingers and randomly nudging my duffle bag with my big toe.

Emmett took far longer than I had anticipated to come pick me up.

He smiled tentatively, "The roads were icy."

That was understandable. Everything was icy. I thought the blood in my veins was going to freeze solid when I first stepped out the door. I huddled into my coat and tucked my chin into my scarf, keeping frostbite from my cheeks and nose.

The cold wind made my eyes water, I squinted them so I could just see through my lashes as I sprinted to the passenger side of Emmett's car.

In my opinion, Thanksgiving was a rather bizarre holiday. Twenty-four solid hours devoted to everything you were thankful for. At the given moment, I wasn't too particularly thankful for any one thing in particular. Yes, I was thankful for the givens—home, food, money, family, ect.—but, I didn't have anything else to be really thankful for.

Nothing exceptionally good was happening to me. I was skating by on a sheet of thin ice, waiting for the precise moment it would shatter under my slight weight and dump me under.

I wanted to think that I would have embraced it as the cold water seeped into my lungs and burned me on the inside. I wanted to say that no one would care if I drowned in my own boredom and unremarkably, dull lifestyle.

I had family that might begin to grow suspicious if I started to suffocate in my own life; but, other than that who would notice if I disappeared?

Alice, maybe.

But she was so preoccupied with Jasper. She had Jasper. She had all that she wanted. Her life was peachy keen. She wasn't waiting for the ice to break—she'd already suffered through a short and agonizing winter; she was in springtime, watching as everything bloomed around her.

I was buried under a snowdrift; while the sky just kept piling things on me.

I felt lonely—desperately so.

I had one friend in the entire world; and, she'd just about abandoned me. The only reason she stuck around was because she always had. Why break tradition now? I knew through the years she'd grown fond of me; yet, I always knew that when opportunity presented herself she'd take it.

Opportunity had come in the form of a yellow haired young man. I hated how reluctant she was to leave me behind. She should leave me behind. It was the sensible thing to do.

I wished people would stop trying to live my life for me and start worrying about their own.

What if I was content with the perpetual winter of my life?

Would anyone really want to change it that badly if I was still so adamant about it?

I watched out the window as the sky darkened to dusk and as the houses blurred by us.

Emmett slowed to a stop in front of the quainter looking homes. It was small and yellow with white shutters. Overall it had a clean look to it; simple yet somehow it made it endearing.

I saw Rosalie peering out the glass of the front door; she opened it and leaned out, her jaw trembling in the cold.

"Get inside, you!" I yelled to her, she smiled weakly and closed the door.

I shook my head.

"She was eager to see you," Emmett shrugged, grabbing my bag off my arm and hunkering up the stairs to their front porch.

"She can be eager inside; it's cold, you don't want to hurt that kid of yours do you?" I asked with mock cynicism.

He laughed, "Nope. You're right."

I nodded, and chuckled a little.

As soon as we were in the door Rosalie enveloped me in a hug. She was warm and smelled like pineapples. I always forgot how much I liked her until she hugged me with that much passion.

She had told me once that she was glad she finally had a sister. She was an only child; and so when she married into our big family it was easy to see she was ecstatic about having so many siblings-in-law. Especially a sister. She thought of me as the little sister she never had but always wanted. I guess I thought of her in the same way. She treated me like she'd known me my entire life and always listened attentively when I had something to say.

She was one of the few people who really didn't want to completely meddle in my life.

She was content to watch as my own life unfolded. I was afraid to say thus far I'd disappointed her with a boring show. But she seemed confident enough that my life would pick up if I just gave it time.

I idly wondered what she would say if I told her of my 'winter' scenario. Would she feel sad that I didn't want my life to pick up?

I shrugged the melancholy thoughts off, and resigned myself to having a good weekend with them.

Dinner was an interesting event. Rosalie could cook like nobody's business. She might even have had Mario beat in the culinary department.

We ate in relative silence. Emmett didn't talk while he ate. He had a one track mind. I wasn't one to start conversations, so I ate quietly as well. I could tell the silence kind of irked Rosalie. At least with me there it did. Perhaps she thought that I'd changed and was thus willing to make small talk while eating. I'd have to disappoint her again with my silence. I sighed quietly to myself and continued eating my lasagna.

Rosalie made up a makeshift bed for me on their long, leather sofa. I could feel its coldness through the sheet under me.

After a while Emmett and Rosalie disappeared into their small bedroom. It was quiet save for the sound of the frigid wind blasting against the window panes; and the heat occasionally kicking on and off.

I couldn't sleep.

My awareness came when I heard a doorknob turn and soft feet brushing against the low cut carpet.

I sat up as Rosalie came into view.

"Oh, I didn't mean to wake you," she said softly.

I shook my head, dark hair reflecting off the dim light, "I was already awake."

She smiled sweetly, "Would you like to join me for a midnight snack?"

I shrugged and nodded, following her into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Tupperware container full of black olives. She took a seat at the kitchen table and beckoned for me to follow her lead.

I sat across from her and watched as she ate.

She blushed, "You can eat something if you want."

I shrugged and grabbed an olive.

"So how have you been lately?"

Translation: Met anybody that's caught your eye?

I smirked, "I've been alright."

Nope. Nobody.

She squared her shoulders, "That's good."

Oh, that's too bad.

"Uh-huh."

I'm ok with it.

A smile touched her full lips. I smiled too.

"So how have you been?" I asked eager to change the underlying subject from myself.

She thoughtfully chewed on another olive, "I'm wonderful—a little anxious, but nothing that won't pass."

"You'll make a good mother." I intoned, attempted to quell her anxiety.

She let out a mirthless chuckle, "Sometimes I wonder if we're ready."

"You are," I told her sternly. "It's something monumental; but, the two of you are good, your child will be well loved and looked after."

She smiled serenely, "It's good to hear you say that, Auntie."

I snorted, "Auntie? Can't we come up with something better for your kid to call me?"

She laughed her lilting laugh, "You're the only aunt our daughter will have when she's born, take pride in it."

"She?" I asked, stealing another olive.

Rose nodded and smiled wider, "Yup! In three months time you'll have a niece!"

I laughed, "Em's been surrounded by guys all his life, now he's going to be surrounded by girls!"

"He'll live," Rosalie sniffed, then giggled, "She'll have him wrapped around her little finger."

"She sure will," I smiled.

Rosalie downed a couple more olives before biding me good night and going back to bed.

I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep—or even gotten back to the couch, for that matter—when the phone rang.

I opened my eyes and pulled my head up from where my warm cheek was stuck to the cool leather.

"Hello?" Emmett asked.

I looked at him through sleepy eyes. Rosalie leaned out of their bedroom doorway, wrapped in a fluffy, pink robe.

"Oh really?" Emmett said suspiciously into the phone.

There was a pause.

"Garrett and Kate sittin' in a tree," he chorused.

"Garrett?" I asked aloud.

Garrett was my second oldest brother. He was two years younger than Emmett and was a bit of an extrovert. Though, a bit might be an understatement—I didn't particularly wish to be unkind to my flamboyant brother.

Emmett laughed at something he said and hung up the receiver.

"What was that all about?" Rosalie asked.

Emmett opened his mouth to answer; but, I interrupted, "Who the heck is Kate?!" I could help but let the extreme curiosity leak into my voice.

Emmett chuckled, "Garrett is stopping by for Thanksgiving dinner, is that alright, Honey?" Rose nodded, he continued, "And he's bringing a guest: Kate."

"Yes, but who is Kate?" I asked.

Emmett shrugged, smiling slightly, "His girlfriend."

I chuckled, "We're going to bug the crap out of him about his, aren't we?"

Emmett broke into a wide grin, "Oh, yes." He gave me a high five.

Rosalie sighed theatrically, "Honestly, you two are worse than gossiping, little, old ladies."

Emmett and I laughed in unison.

This was very funny to me, because all of my siblings—myself included—were lacking the romantic-aptitude department.

We were all stunned when Emmett became engaged. And to a woman like Rosalie, no less.

Due to this, whenever any of my brothers acquired a girlfriend; she was usually kept a secret due to the ridicule and loving jabs he would receive. If Garrett was bringing this girl to meet us, then he was serious about her.

Rosalie was fully aware of our tradition of making fun and so she shot us both warning glances. "Be nice to them. Don't freak this poor girl out! Make her feel welcome, smile and be kind. Don't make fun of Garrett either!"

"Aw, c'mon Rosie," I play-complained, "you're killing all our fun."

"Be nice," she said again.

"Yes, Mom," I said smirking.

She narrowed her eyes at my snappy remark; but smiled despite herself.

Rosalie set about cooking around noontime; she banished Emmett and I to the front porch, where we took up residence on the swing.

"He sounded pretty serious about her," Em noted.

"Good," I deadpanned, "he needs someone to ground him."

Emmett laughed.

A car rolled into the driveway.

Garrett stepped out of the driver's side. The shade of his hair was lighter than Emmett's and mine, more yellow. His eyes were the same steel gray as Emmett's; a stark contrast to the dark brown of my eyes. All my brothers had metal eyes; I had dirt. It seemed like a poor compromise of genetics.

The young woman who stepped out of the passenger door was someone I wouldn't have expected.

She had soft, flowing honey-coloured hair that flowed past the small of her back; small features that paled in comparison to the size of her large, almond-shaped eyes. She looked shyly up to where Emmett and I sat.

Upon seeing Garrett all my feelings of homesickness and having not seen my family in what seemed like eons hit me like a ton of bricks. I jetted off the swing and down the small flight of stairs into my brother's warm embrace.

He was as tall as Emmett; but, not as stocky. His muscles were long; he was still thick through the shoulders and neck like Emmett was; but, he didn't occupy his time lifting weights like Emmett did. He was more into music. He had one mean guitar solo.

He picked me up and spun me around. It was a trend among my brothers. Pick up Bella. Check. Twirl her around ballerina style. Check.

"Garrett!" I laughed, tightening my hold around his neck. He laughed back; his voice was similar to the low timbre of Emmett's, "Bells!"

Emmett came up behind us, and grabbed Garrett's hand and pulled him to his chest giving him two pats on the back. It was a typical 'guy hug'.

"Well, you two," he said a little breathlessly, "This is Kate." He gestured to the young woman who stood demurely behind him.

She smiled and ducked her head. I produced my hand for shaking. Her palm shook a little as she pressed her hand into mine.

"It's wonderful to meet you," I assured her, she smiled weakly, I added, "I'm Bella."

"Hey, I'm Emmett," Emmett leaned down a little, trying not to look too frightening.

Kate smiled a little more confidently.

Rosalie came out of the house at that moment and scurried down the stairs to hug Garrett. He pecked her lightly on the check. She turned to face Kate. Rosalie hugged the bemused girl.

Kate pinked from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of her pixie-like ears.

"And you told us not to freak her out, Rosie," Emmett laughed and put his hand on the small of Rosalie's back. She let go of Kate and looked into her eyes, "It's a pleasure to have you at our home."

Kate nodded and smiled, regaining her composure.

Rosalie trotted back into the house, making an explanation about leaving the gravy unattended.

I smiled encouragingly at Kate; she seemed to be preoccupied with the dull gravel of Emmett's driveway. "Come sit with me?" I asked.

I wasn't really one for conversation-starting. Especially not with a stranger; but, she seemed less inclined than I did. She nodded and followed as I took my seat on the swing once more.

"So, how long have you and my brother been together?" I asked, hoping she would define the wariness in my voice as a slight eagerness for more knowledge.

"Almost a year." Her voice was agreeable. Soft, it was creamy and sounded more confident with every second.

I nodded, feigning interest.

"So, how'd you meet him?" I asked, trying to keep her talking.

"I sing in the band he plays in."

I nodded.

"I met him when my younger brother brought him to our house for band practice."

I nodded again, unable to come up with an answering statement.

She smiled, "You're as shy as I am," she breathed.

I blushed and looked at her wide and unabashed eyes. "Yeah," I mumbled.

It was her turn to smile encouragingly. I returned her smile.

Though our meeting was awkward, I could tell I was going to like her.

* * *

**I hope you guys like this new chapter! :) I know everyone's really OOC, I'm sorry about that; but, just deal with it. And please bear with me Edward will come back very soon. I promise! **

**Extended preview to whoever can guess who Mario and Bella are talking about in the "Next time on TGBM". ;)**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"Give me the application," Mario said.**

**I glanced over his shoulder, and read along with him. The guy didn't have any prior experience, no other employers, no references. **

**"Where is this kid?" Mario asked. **

**"You're not seriously gonna hire him, are you?" I asked indignantly. **

**"Well, at least for the evening," Mario shrugged.**

**"Watch the cash register," I quipped, "You never know if this guy is a psycho or not."**


	8. Breathe

**Chapter 8: Breathe**

Thanksgiving dinner got very rowdy, very fast.

I felt a little more at ease with two of my brothers there. Especially when they decided to have a contest to see who could eat the most scalding hot, cheesy potatoes within a small timeframe.

Rosalie tried to be angry about it. But in the end she had to lay her forehead on the table to stop from laughing.

Kate started to look more at ease every moment; until finally she laughed along with as just as if she'd always been part of our family.

Garrett spoke of the new band he was part of. They were still in the 'garage' phase; but, hoped to soon be playing small shows. Kate was then convinced to show off her impressive vocals. Garrett brought his guitar from the trunk of his car and they serenaded us with a beautiful acoustic.

They looked so right playing a love ballad together. She shyly looked at him while he played; he smiled and winked. She blushed, but her voice didn't waver as she moved into the melancholic bridge.

Rosalie nestled into Emmett's chest, turning to kiss his neck. I averted my eyes.

They found Garrett and Kate still making music together—but the pair looked at each other as if they wouldn't live if they looked away.

I felt a wave of loneliness wash over me as I wondered if anyone would ever look at me that way. Probably not. I was motley looking. Earthen and homely. Not the supple beauty of Kate, or the sheer gorgeousness of Rosalie.

I was Bella.

Flat brown hair and muddy brown eyes that were sallow and sunken behind my high cheekbones.

I looked down at my fingernails when realization struck that I was very nearly an adult and had never been kissed. Never even had a boyfriend. Never would. Never wanted to.

The song ended as Garrett plucked out the last few chords.

I ghosted out of the room to the front porch, meeting Emmett's understanding eyes as I left.

I instinctively knew that it would be a while before anyone would come check on me. I pulled my worn copy of Pride and Prejudice out of my duffle bag on my way out the front door.

It was cold again, so I brought my knees up to my chest and read, letting my mind wander to the alternate universe I was creating for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

I imagined a modern Elizabeth with her fierce beauty prowling through our campus, and sitting beneath the oak.

I saw Mr. Darcy walk along the sidewalk, pretending like he didn't notice her; yet, he was studying her all along.

I saw her sneer as she thought about his unwavering prejudice; and, his hurt green eyes at her abundant pride.

When did I decide to give him green eyes?  
I flipped through the pages, scanning my footnotes for any recollection that I had intended to give Darcy Edward's eyes.

I quickly smothered my mental image of those acid, green eyes and focused on the paragraph I was reading.

Rosalie was the first to respond to my extended absence. I saw her peak through the sunny, yellow curtains before she opened the front door and came to sit beside me.

"Too mushy for you?" She asked, crinkling her nose.

I nodded solemnly, feigning immense interest in my book.

She nodded and smiled, "Emmett and Garrett want to play football; I'm assuming that will make you feel a little better."

I cracked a smile that I hid in the bindings of my book.

"Thought so," she said smugly and stood, heading back indoors, "I'm assuming you want to be on Emmett's team?"

"Heck yes," I said.

Emmett and I usually played 'two-hand touch' against the team of Garrett, and Benjamin—my other brother.

'Two-hand touch' was usually a very loose term. Very loose indeed. It was more like two-handed shove/tackle/break-your-sibling's-nose football. I liked being on Emmett's team despite his distinct lack of the ability to throw a football. Garrett and Benjamin were agile and small and could run fast. I could run faster. Garrett and Benjamin tackled pretty hard. Emmett could tackle harder. If someone where to give Emmett my speed and ability and I have his sheer brawn—then we'd been one force to be reckoned with. We settled for being tag-team football heroes amongst our family. Whenever we played this game Garrett and Benjamin got stomped into a mud-hole.

But, who was going to fill Benjamin's place?

I was suddenly very afraid for Kate. Rosalie most certainly wasn't going to play, so either it was Emmett and I versus Garrett all by his lonesome; or he was going to bring his girlfriend into the mess.

Indeed, Kate was going to be his second. I sighed, hoping she wasn't as fragile as she looked.

She wasn't.

She took me down right off the bat. Emmett lightly tossed me the ball and I was about to tell him to go deep when all the breath rushed out of my lungs and I was suddenly on my back, rolling slightly on the incline of Emmett and Rosalie's yard.

The ground was cold and hard, and with the weight of my brother's girlfriend on top of me it was very unpleasant.

She looked at me slightly horrified and slightly triumphant as she gathered the ball from my fumble and chucked it to Garrett.

"Sorry," she mumbled breathlessly, helping me to my feet.

I grinned, "No problem—it's all part of the game!"

The game continued: throw, catch, fall to the ground and get hurt, rinse and repeat.

I was laughing, muddy and flushed when the game finally ended as dark began to encroach. We burst through the doors still laughing and making merry. Our enthusiasm died down as the moon rose higher and higher over the horizon-line. I fell onto the couch exhausted; my final memory of the night was the sound of Garrett's car engine shuddering to a start as he began to drive home.

Morning brought with it another frost and another car ride; this time back to my home.

Alice wasn't going to be back for another day; so I was still alone. Emmett seemed a little ill at ease to leave me there by myself—but, I had to remind him I was a big girl now and could look after myself.

The house was unbelievably empty after he left.

I eyed the sink dubiously.

The piles of dishes were back.

My eyes flashed with the buried memory of Edward standing there. I closed my eyes as the wash of memory burned my vision.

A new sight overtook me when my eyes were clenched shut. Edward was there again—in my kitchen bathed in the early morning light, he turned to look over his shoulder and smiled at me. His eyes crinkled at the edges. He said my name and I swear I could hear exactly how he would breathe the word.

I wished for his company, so I kept my eyes shut and watched him as he continued to wash our dishes. He looked so beatific in the light from the kitchen window; his copper hair haloed by the sun's rays.

I let a smile curve my lips.

Why the heck was I smiling?

I couldn't be smiling.

I shouldn't be smiling.

Especially not about Edward. Or rather, my daydream about Edward. I hadn't seen him in over a month. He'd gone off to conquer some other tree. Meet some other person whose life he could impact and then rip himself away from them so they were left with his burning memory, until humanity washed over them again and they forgot they even met him.

I suddenly couldn't stand the mess. It felt like it was suffocating me.

I went to work with a passion. Scrubbing the plates until they sparkled.

I didn't do it nearly as efficiently as Edward had, splashing water everywhere and making more of a mess for me to clean up. But, I somehow didn't mind as much when I splashed soapy water all down my shirtfront. I didn't mind when I slopped it all over the floor. The floor needed cleaning anyway, it was just a plus that the water already contained soap.

After scrubbing the kitchen floor clean I did all the laundry and folded it so neatly the stacks of clothes looked like they belonged on a department store's shelves rather then our sofa.

I collapsed into bed around midnight, glad through my exhaustion that I had a dreamless, Edward-less sleep.

Alice woke me the next morning. I had overslept and she was banging around in the kitchen.

I trudged out of my bedroom adjusting the fall of my clothing so I looked a little more put together instead of sleep-rumpled.

"Do we live here?" Alice asked in a bemused voice.

"Last time I checked we did," I said a little more bemused than she.

"Who cleaned?" She asked gesturing to our sanitary abode.

"I did," I said, she raised her eyebrows, "I was bored." I grouched.

She nodded, "Have a good time with Emmett?"

"Yup, Garrett stopped by—we played football." I nodded slightly and bit the inside of my cheek.

"No broken bones?" She asked sarcastically.

"No," I sighed.

She smiled and nodded.

"Have a good time with your parents?" I asked.

She nodded, "Yep. I got the usual: 'Make sure you eat enough protein!' 'Is Bella still—well, Bella?' you know how they are…" Her voice trailed off.

I smirked, 'Is Bella still—well, Bella?'

Yes, Bella was still 'Bella'. Bella was still silly and antisocial. Bella was still one to be dubbed 'a bad influence'.

A bad influence on their sunny, exuberant, shining star of a daughter. I was the stray black hole ready and waiting to cause their star to supernova.

"Do you have work today?" Alice asked.

"Yeah, Mario wants me to come in early and stay late with the rush of all the students coming back."

She nodded and then disappeared into her bedroom. I didn't bother her for the rest of the day; except for a single rap on her door when I left for work.

Mario had been right, work was crowded. I had to squeeze between pulled out chairs and lean over booths as I took orders and delivered food.

Around 11 o'clock the crowd died down a little.

"Success!" Mario crowed, gesturing to the empty pizza ovens, "Finally everyone's order has been filled!"

I laughed and rung my hands around the stiff cotton of my apron.

He looked over his shoulder at the sheer mass of dirty dishes awaiting their washer, "I pity the fool who has to do that."

I nodded compliantly.

"Bells, how much would I have to pay you to wash those?" Mario asked with a persuasive smile. It was too persuasive. My tongue numbed as I formed an answer.

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

He looked hurt, "I was just offering you some extra cash."

"Mike quit, didn't he?" I asked narrowing my eyes. Mike was our dishwasher. He was Mario's thirteen year old nephew. He was a thirteen year old with an attitude that was enough for about ten other kids his size. He only worked at his uncle's because Mario paid him well. He must've found somebody that paid better.

Mario nodded morosely.

"I'm not washing them, even if you gave me a million dollars."

He groaned, "Well I'm not going to do it!"

"Get someone gullible to do it, or hire somebody else!"

Angela, Mario's niece and Mike's sister, walked into the kitchen then. She was a waitress—and it seemed Mike had all the attitude while she had none. She was quite possibly the happiest worker ever.

"Hey," she greeted, "some guy just came in filled out an application if you guys are complaining about Mike quitting; hire this guy and get him to work."

Her eyes shined when she said 'this guy'; he must've been cute by her sixteen-year-old standards.

"Give me the application," Mario said.

I glanced over his shoulder, and read along with him. The guy didn't have any prior experience, no other employers, no references.

"Where is this kid?" Mario asked.

"You're not seriously gonna hire him, are you?" I asked indignantly.

"Well, at least for the evening," Mario shrugged.

"Watch the cash register," I quipped, "You never know if this guy is a psycho or not."

Angela ran out into the dinning area to find the guy. If he was willing to take the night shift, Mario was going to put him to work. I vaguely felt sorry for him. He came in here with a promise of pizza and stayed to do the dishes. Mario did point out that his application said he was ready to start work anytime. I was skeptical that someone would just want to start on the spot.

I turned to look at the swinging door as Angela walked in a shadow lurking behind her. I chuckled darkly to myself; poor guy, whoever he was, was about to get the dish-washing job of his life. These plates rivaled our stakes of disheveled cutlery.

I had to do a double take.

For a moment the dirtied jeans and ripped, red, flannel shirt looked like Edward.

I started at the feet—shod in pathetic-looking sneakers and trailed upwards, slower this time. Ripped jeans, with mud on the hems. Red shirt, torn at the elbows and also muddy. A mess of disheveled red hair—and acidic green eyes that pierced as they stared directly into the brown of mine.

The breath rushed out of my lungs, as he continued to stare at me.

Edward was standing in the kitchen of Mario's Slice of Heaven. He was right in front of me. Tangibly here, not just in my thoughts—a remnant of something that once was.

"Hello," he inclined his head. His voice made me recoil in surprise. I was dumbstruck by how startlingly familiar yet distant his voice sounded.

I nodded, my voice somehow lost in my sea of confusion.

"Well, Kid," Mario said eyeing Edward dubiously, "the sink's over here if you're willing to start tonight."

Edward shrugged, "I don't have anything else to do."

He brushed passed me—I was still stunned in place, my mind not working quick enough—when his head was close to mine he bent it and whispered a less formal greeting in my ear. At least I considered his warm whisper of "Isabella," to be an informal greeting.

"Bella's speechless?" I heard Jasper ask as he entered the back door, returning from his last delivery of the night.

I snapped my mouth shut, "Am not," I said and grabbed the iced tea pitcher with a little more zeal than necessary; getting myself out of the crowded kitchen as quickly as I could.

Somehow with Edward there it made it far harder to breathe.

It wasn't my usually consternation about carbon dioxide. It wasn't a fear of people stealing my oxygen. It wasn't even a reasonable claustrophobia. It was something deeper. Something more inset that made me feel a wave of panic when he looked at me.

When he said my name.

When his breath didn't make me uncomfortable—it was only him. Only his breath.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long, FF dot Net was on the fritz. As I'm sure you all know. Next chapter of this will be up on Friday. Anyways, it was Edward as everybody guessed that is now working at the pizza place. So Edward's back now! Hooray!**

**If you've red my one-shot "Red Eyes", please go vote in my poll to see if I should continue it. Thanks!**

**And, as always, reviews are much appreciated.**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"No!" My voice cracked, I had to calm myself down, "I mean, he's just a coworker, I barely know him."**

**This information comforted me. I barely knew him, and he barely knew me-save for my name.**

**"Shall I come down to the college and make it abundantly clear that he's just a coworker?" He raised his eyebrows, his forehead puckered with manifold wrinkles. I could see the hidden note of danger in his old eyes.**

**"No, Dad," I laughed lightly, "I think Edward knows I just think of him as a friend."**


	9. Home

**Chapter 9: Home**

Graciously, I waited until I was hidden from his view before my mind started to fray at the edges and pull apart at the seams.

My mind reeled.

Edward had come back.

Two thoughts hit my simultaneously—I'm sad to admit the first was he was stalking me.

The second—and exponentially more reasonable—was that he'd lost his wanderer shtick and had become a normal human being.

I avoided the kitchen as much as humanly possible for the rest of my shift. I wasn't prone to admit that it made my skin prickle uneasily when I saw him. My stomach started to churn and I wondered why I had such a hard time looking at him. Why it terrified me so.

I stiffened in agitation as he called for me as I was about to steal away, unnoticed, out the back door.

I shuffled over to him; rubbing my arms to try to hide the gooseflesh seizing them.

"Hello," he said again quietly; his eyes smiling down at me.

I was suddenly filled with fire, "I thought you didn't stay in one place," I whispered furiously. Waiting for an answer or a guilty plea of pursuit.

"I don't usually," he smiled back, and whispered warmly, "but, this place, caught my attention. I've found I like this town; I think I'd like to stay a while."

I nodded and took one long look into his green eyes, terrified of what he saw reflected in mine. I dodged out the back door as soon as he took a second to blink.

I ran the entire way home, not daring to look back.

I slammed the door when I entered; alerting Alice to my return.

She peered out of her doorway, raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.

I looked at her with wide eyes.

"What's the matter?" She asked exasperatedly.

"It's him," I whispered—realizing that my statement sounded like a line from a cheesy horror film.

"'Him' who?' She asked.

"Edward!" I hissed between my teeth.

She chewed on her bottom lip, "The cute guy who washed our dishes?"

I bobbed my head up and down.

"What about him?" She pressed, she looked afraid for my answer.

What was it about him? Was it how he seemed to show up at the precise time I'm about to drown in the loneliness? Was that what frightened me about him? His uncanny ability to show up when my subconscious was having a fit. Coincidence. It could have been sheer coincidence.

No.

It's only coincidence if it happens once. Twice is more like tampering with fate.

Fate was dangerous to play with. Like fire. Parents warn small children not to play with matches; they even have an oversized, overly friendly, grizzly bear warning about fire prevention—but, fate prevention is another story. We can tempt it. But can we run from it?

I regained my composure; berating myself for dropping my carefully affixed mask, and looked up at Alice, "Nothing. He's just back in town—got a job at Mario's. I was wondering if you remembered him."

My voice had an edge of hysteria to it.

She nodded, "Yep, I remember him."

Sometimes I was immensely glad Alice was kind of slow. She never really perceived the miniscule shifts in my mental state; she went with the flow of inconsistency from my ever deteriorating frame of mind.

I slipped into my room, closing the door sharply, hoping the message for no disturbance was sent through the bang of the hinges.

I slept that night restlessly. Unable to escape the subconscious vision of Mario's kitchen, Edward standing by the sink. The dream was hazy around the edges, the only thing that was clear were to acerbic eyes. Radioactively green against the sepia tone of the background.

I awoke with a start, staring out into the brightness of the early winter morning.

Classes began their regular schedule; and, we were relatively back in the swing of things within two weeks.

Everything was back to normal for Alice, that is. She saw Jasper every evening and set her heart into her studies as she prepared for the end of the first semester.

Things weren't really back to normal for me, however. Because, every time I walked into the kitchen at Mario's, Edward was there. He never spoke to me. Just looked at me with his distant green eyes.

Every time he looked at me like that—I got the intrinsic feeling that he was thinking very deeply about me; and, I couldn't tell if he was thinking nice thoughts or not.

He was so utterly different.

No other man I'd ever met was precisely like him. He was unique. Very, very unique.

I noticed, through my inconspicuous studies of him that he always wore the same clothes. I looked at him enough that I could tell you where every single hole in his clothing was. I'd memorized the pattern on his flannel shirt; and, I was 100 percent positive I could have found him anywhere—even if it was as fruitless a search as finding a needle in a haystack.

The second week of December—and the end of the first semester—came in the blink of an eye. And soon I was leaving Edward and college and the banks of snow behind for my home and a long awaited visit with my parents.

I never once mentioned Edward over Christmas break. Not once. My thoughts, however, were another story entirely.

"So," my mother prodded, "meet anyone?"

Why was my love life such a hot topic for all my family members?

I saw my mother's brown eyes alight as she awaited my rebuttal. She was so very much like me. Small, and with mousy brown hair and muddy eyes. But, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were always flushed and she seemed to be able to multitask as if it were second nature. She was a good mother—all anyone could ask for.

I shook my head, and leaned around her to snatch an apple from the kitchen counter.

"You'll meet somebody," she replied. As opposed to all the other people who were completely and incomparably enthralled with my personal life, my mother didn't press me for answers or try to force me into something that would end up awry; she encouraged me to open up my own life. Even though I didn't know what to expect if I opened up. Supposedly, life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get.

"You want to bake something with me?" She asked.

I nodded, enthusiastic.

We spent the afternoon baking things.

I was glad to be away from college. Away from the constant chatter of Alice and the jibes from Jasper; and, the constant, watchful eyes of Edward.

My father, who was very much like my three brothers, came home shortly after mom and I had taken the cake out of the oven, and had replaced the cake pan with a cookie sheet on the oven rack.

He inhaled deeply as he walked into the kitchen, "Something smells wonderful," his voice reached us before I looked over my shoulder and saw him, "I'm guessing that mean's our little Bella is home?"

He came around the corner, his brown eyes wrinkling around the edges as he smiled at me. I ran to him and was enveloped in his big embrace. He had Emmett's brawn, and Garrett and Benjamin's lankiness.

"It is my Bella!" I loved hugging him. He smelled exactly the same way he did when I was a child. He wore the same cologne I knew from the times I used to sit on his lap before church. He in a fine suit, and me my hair fashioned into pig tails and in a lacey dress that was the fad for girls at the age of three; I used to bury my nose into his neck and smell the distinct smell of his aftershave.

He'd changed since my childhood, gained a little girth and added a few more wrinkles; but, he was always my daddy. Always held my hand, even now. Some girls would be shamelessly embarrassed to be seen in public their hand in their father's; but, I enjoyed it. I loved being with him. I felt younger a little more alive. I didn't have as many worries when I was in the edict of my parents.

He let go of me and leaned over to kiss mom. He stuck his finger into the batter bowl and sucked on it, "Chocolate chip," he said his eyes sparkling, "my favourite!"

I heard the door tear open again, and Benjamin came in.

"Bells!" He said, and wrapped me in his arms. He was shorter than Emmett and Garrett and a little more reticent. Emmett was reserved, Garrett was outspoken and Benjamin was just softer. He wasn't loud but, he wasn't quiet by any stretch. He was opinionated; but, unlike Garrett he didn't seek out arguments just for the sake of bantering.

He had gone to seminary and was on his way to become a youth pastor. I was glad for him. He had an inspirational personality. He was very influential. And, when he announced he'd being going into ministry it didn't take my family by surprise.

"Oh, cake!" He exclaimed sniffing the yellow cake availingly.

Mom rapped a wooden spoon against his skull, "That's for after dinner!"

"Sorry," he said rubbing his head, "I'm hungry."

"Well, dinner is almost ready; so you all can get to the table." Mom turned off the top burners and dished out the soup she'd had ready ever since I arrived around lunchtime.

Garrett brought Kate over while dessert was being served; it would have been complete if Emmett and Rosalie had been able to be there.

"So, Bells how's college?" Benjamin asked, taking a swallow of milk.

I shrugged, "Classes are easy."

"Figures," Garrett muttered. I elbowed him in the ribs, "What?" He whined, "You're Miss Smarty Pants, we wouldn't have expected anything less."

I made a face. Dad spoke up, "So, where are you working? It's a pizza place, right?"

"Yeah, it's called Mario's Slice of Heaven."

"That's creative," Benjamin laughed.

I shrugged, "I would say it's cheesy; but, then my words can be twisted. So I'll add that there was no pun intended in that statement."

"Cheesy pizza," Benjamin laughed.

I laughed too.

It was an interesting first night back home. I hadn't slept in my home bedroom for nearly four months. It seemed so childish now. So different from the adult atmosphere I was used to.

I, of course, dreamed of Edward. He was in my mother's kitchen. And who would've guessed: he was washing dishes.

It was like the dream where he said my name. The large bay windows lining one wall of my mother's kitchen cast his stark features into high relief. His sun-weathered skin shone off the glow of the stainless steel appliances.

My father walked into the kitchen then, he came from the front room. His eyes were narrowed as he glared at Edward. Emmett was just behind him; he had the same drawn look as my father. Garrett and Benjamin entered from the dining room both glaring acerbically.

I looked at the bemusedly, "What are you doing?" My voice sounded foreign to me.

They formed a line in front of me, all crossing their arms like body guards.

"Stay away from her," my father said. I'd never heard that tone to his voice. It was caveat and deadly.

Emmett took a warning step forward. His size took up the entire kitchen. He looked so big.

My father stepped back beside me; I looked up at him. Garrett and Benjamin stood shortly behind Emmett like backup.

I reached up to take my father's hand; and, something registered that I shouldn't have had to reach up. I looked down at myself—the lacey dress I wore, the small shoes, and my hair swung in pig tails on either side of my head.

"Daddy?" My voice was high and childlike.

"Stay here sweetie," he said, his voice was warm but stern, "you can stay like this as long as you like. You don't have to go there. You don't have to change."

It sounded like a dreadful lie. It wasn't as if he were lying to me about my negligence to change. It was a lie when he said it like it was a good thing to just stay exactly the same.

"Isabella?" It was Edward's voice this time. I looked over Emmett's shoulders to see his confused, green eyes.

"No," I said my voice quivering, "no." I ripped my hand from my father's, and ran forward pressing between Garrett and Benjamin and racing past Emmett. As soon as I was past them I was me again. At least the tall, adult me. I stood in front of Edward; waiting for him to say something.

"I have pancakes." He mouthed.

"What?"

Seriously, though, what?! Pancakes. This was about pancakes.

I felt a light pressure on my shoulder and my body shook.

I opened my eyes, and squinted against the light, Mom was standing over me, "Bella, honey, if you want pancakes you're going to have to get them now; Garrett and Benjamin are attacking them like a pack of ravenous wolves."

I nodded and shook off the haze of sleep. I knew I'd dreamed about Edward; but, I was happy to report I'd forgotten the body of my dream. I just had the pressing impression that it was something I didn't want to remember.

I stalked into the kitchen in a sour mood. Somehow upset with my older brothers. I blamed it on my lack of breakfast. One pancake hardly qualifies as a good breakfast.

Benjamin left for the church offices and Garrett jetted off to band practice; so it was just Mom, Dad and I.

A fresh coat of snow had fallen over the Washington skyline; dusting us with a few inches. I could see the mountains in the distance; large and imposing, yet majestic as ever. Snowcapped like grand old men with their silver hair.

"I'm going to go for a walk," Dad mused, running a hand through his silvery, thinning hair, "Want to come with me?"

I looked up from the bowl of cereal I had acquired after Garrett and Benjamin had inhaled all the pancakes. Dad met my eyes and I nodded.

I put my bowl into the sink, and grabbed my coat and scarf off the pegs by the door.

The air outside was chilly and bitter. Wet with the impending moisture that hung in the atmosphere. I knew it wasn't going to snow. The air was just a bit too warm, I figured it would rain because, in the morning; I'd seen the birds flying away.

Dad held the door for me as we started walking down the precariously, icy sidewalk.

He must have had something on his mind, something he needed to tell me or else he wouldn't have brought me into the cool midmorning air, with that frighteningly intent look on his face.

"I talked to Emmett," he began hesitantly.

I was safe thus far; he hadn't brought up any frightening topics. He could have talked to Emmett about any number of things; but, the tone to his voice made me morbidly curious. The saying: 'Curiosity killed the cat,' flashed in my mind.

"And he said you'd met a young man."

Not good.

I shuffled aimlessly through my memories. A young man Emmett would have known about and felt the need to tell my father about.

Ah, Edward!

No!

My silence garnered an askance look from my father. "So, do I need to come have a talk with this boy?"

"No!" My voice cracked, I had to calm myself down, "I mean, he's just a coworker, I barely know him."

This information comforted me. I barely knew him, and he barely knew me—save for my name.

"Shall I come down to the college and make it abundantly clear that he's just a coworker?" He raised his eyebrows, his forehead puckered with manifold wrinkles. I could see the hidden note of danger in his old eyes.

"No, Dad," I laughed lightly, "I think Edward knows I just think of him as a friend."

A friend.

The word warmed my chest and throat on its way out. I wondered if he thought of me as a friend. I was nearly positive that he didn't think of me in a romantic way; and for that I was glad. But, I wouldn't at all have been opposed to friendship.

My father nodded and dropped the subject. I shambled trough the snow and ice, dragging my feet against the pavement so I wouldn't fall.

I stole a glance into my father's ancient, brown eyes. I saw years of my life reflected there. Like mirror past.

I saw as they watched me stumble through the awkward high school years, and then their sadness as I moved on to college. I saw the streak of over-protectiveness glint in them, hard and sharp like flint.

I instinctively moved closer to him until he looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and wrapped his strong arm around me.

It was quiet as we walked home.

And the rain began to fall silently in icicle-like sheet all around us.

* * *

**Charlie, in this story, is based on my dad. Because my dad is the type who would _forcefully _make a guy back off if I wanted him to. Also, Bella's and his relationship in this fanfic is very much how I am with my dad. Like the whole 'hand-holding' thing. I'm 16, and I don't care about walking around holding my daddy's hand. I'm very blessed to have an awesome relationship with my parents.**

**Ok, Benjamin is a youth pastor. If the religion element in this story is annoying to you--get over it. That's just how I wrote it. I'm a Christian and it typically oozes in to my writing. I'm sorry if I offended anyone, that was not my intent. **

**Reviews are MUCH appreciated.**

**Next time on TGBM:**

"**How can you do that?" I asked my voice strained in my throat.**

**"Do what?" He asked a quizzical look on his face.**

**"Look right at me and see through everything?" It sounded corny and pathetic-and I wished I'd never met him in the first place.**

**"I can just see sadness behind your eyes," he said his words very carefully, as if he were afraid of speaking at all. He smiled slightly; his white teeth sparkling in the dim cast of the setting sun.**


	10. Motives

**Chapter 10: Motives**

Easy life with my parents had to come to a close sometime. I, after all, had a job and school and friends…no wait, scratch that last one I had very good acquaintances. People who knew vague details about my life—and if need be I would claim them as friends.

I hated to think of them that way. But I was convinced that I wasn't worth having as a friend. I truly wasn't. You can't count on someone who could barely keep it together on the outside.

That was how I felt when I entered Mario's, on that chilly, late winter day. I felt like my very core was splitting and cracking. I was forming my own Grand Canyon in the inner landscapes of my mind.

"You look frazzled," Edward intoned.

It was strangely comforting to hear his voice after nearly a month of my dearth of working.

I shrugged. Frazzled was an understatement.

He put his hand on my shoulder, and I cringed away. His eyes softened, "Oh, right, sorry. Personal space."

I nodded.

"But, seriously though, you alright?"

I looked up at him under the fringe of my bangs; he looked serious enough. Aside from the few words he randomly spoke—this was the longest speech he'd made since the tree-incident back in October.

I nodded again, and dodged past him to get to my apron; he took one long stride to get ahead of me.

"I missed you," he said, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth.

He missed me? I barely spoke to him—and yet, he recognized my absence? Ok. Creepy.

I nodded cordially, willing my heart to start back up again—no need to go into ventricle fibrillation because of something nonsensical a coworker said.

I went into the bustle of the dining hall and went about taking orders, a fake smile placating my plain features. It wasn't as hard to fake it when I was around people whom I didn't know. Back in the kitchen under the watchful eye of Mario, or the quick, accurate glances of Edward I knew they'd see through the façade.

It was difficult—to hide my hurting eyes when they were around. Especially Edward, he saw far too much in my eyes. They were like mud puddles reflecting back a grisly scene of denial and self-mutilation that I knew was ripping my soul apart as I tried to decide whether or not it was worth it to trust that God would show me the way.

I walked home, unaware of the footfalls behind me.

"Isabella?" His liquid voice asked.

"Yes?" I asked, barely able to muster a whisper.

"Something's wrong." It was not a question. Not at all. It never was going to be a question; because he knew the answer. He knew every part of the answer the very moment I turned around and looked into his eyes.

He nodded.

"How can you do that?" I asked my voice strained in my throat.

"Do what?" He asked a quizzical look on his face.

"Look right at me and see through everything?" It sounded corny and pathetic—and I wished I'd never met him in the first place.

"I can just see sadness behind your eyes," he said his words very carefully, as if he were afraid of speaking at all. He smiled slightly; his white teeth sparkling in the dim cast of the setting sun.

I wanted to punch him.

I turned before the heat could boil in my chest and started to march down the street.

"Why are you angry?" He asked—his voice several feet behind me.

"I'm not angry," I said; but, my voice obviously gave me away.

"I'm sorry if I did something," his voice was repentant.

"It's not just you," I justified, hating how hurt he sounded.

His silence sounded skeptical.

"Ok, fine, maybe it is kind of you; but, regardless I have a nice little stack of problems of my own—you're just kind of counteracting them."

"Counteracting? That's like lessening them…" His voice trailed off; I refused to turn around—but I knew that mirthful tone; he wanted to laugh.

"Ok, so counteracting wasn't a good word. How about affixing to my problems?"

He sounded like he was choking back laughter when he answered me, "Sure, so I'm a trouble-maker am I?"

"If the shoe fits," I shrugged, and then added slyly, "which is a good change for you—wearing shoes."

"I have shoes," he said piteously, I turned to look at his face; but, he was still smiling. He lifted one disgusting sneaker, "Look, I do to have shoes!"

"If you could call those shoes," I said airily.

"They have soles, and laces; they count," he said pursing his lips.

"Fine," I said, and turned to walk away. "If you're going to justify that you have shoes now; you might as well go to a Laundromat and wash your clothes, or patch them up or something—you look homeless."

"If you've forgotten, I kind of am."

I was, yet again, taken aback.

He said it so easily. No on is supposed to be so chipper about being homeless. They were the people who were supposed to sleep on park benches and pity themselves. They were the ones that teenybopper youth groups raised money for or made blankets for or cooked nasty soup for or something.

"You have a job," I said acidly, "you could afford rent, at least."

"Oh, I'm not really homeless, in a sense of the word; I live out of my motel room."

"You live out of a motel room?" The very word motel made me think of some dinky, roadside building whose owner spoke English as a second language.

He noticed the incredulous look on my face and let a stray chortle escape his thin, pressed lips, "It's not so bad."

"Not so bad?" I echoed, "It sounds disgusting."

"It's cleaner than your apartment," he said.

"I highly doubt it. Our apartment has stayed clean for a while; thank you very much."

"You actually washed the dishes?" He raised his eyebrows, the ivory skin of his forehead wrinkled.

"Yes," I snapped, "I was feeling rather gung-ho about it a couple of weeks ago; so, we don't have rather large ominous stacks of dirty dishes on our counter anymore!"

He laughed, "Good. I was kind of worried that you'd get sick from such unsanitary living conditions."

"Yeah well, it's clean now, so you can rest at ease. The mold isn't going to murder us in our sleep," I raised my arms slightly then slapped my hands against my upper thighs and shrugged.

"That's good."

I nodded; this conversation wasn't going anywhere I realized after a moment of silence. I turned to walk away; and, unfortunately, Edward followed.

"Listen, Mario's getting a little antsy about you're appearance," I said trying to get my point across without sounding callus. "So, if you have the time, you might want to invest in a less refugee-looking wardrobe."

"I like this shirt," he said a little offended.

"Fine, then you might at the very least wash it—unless you have some qualms about washing the magic out of it or something else nonsensical."

"I don't have a problem with washing it," he said.

"You can use our washing machine," I offered before I had time to think about the repercussions.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Bella!

Yes, let's put space between Edward and I; but, that's going to be very hard if he's in my house washing his clothes! Stupid.

"You don't have to do that."

Good, he was refusing.

"I'll wash it for you if you want me to."

Bad, I was accepting.

"No, you don't have to."

"I said I would, so I will."

He smiled genuinely, "Thank you, Isabella."

"Quit with the name, please?" I begged, "I really do prefer Bella."

"If that's what you prefer," he shrugged.

I nodded, "It is."

Now that we got that clear, I felt a little relieved. I hadn't noticed that it stung when he called me Isabella. It was like licking a battery; it electrocuted.

He followed me to my front door where he stood—apparently having an argument with himself about whether or not to come in.

I sighed; I'd already made my bed now I had to lie in it, "Want to come in?"

He smiled, obviously pleased, and nodded.

I heard voices wafting from the kitchen. From the sound of things Alice and Jasper were home; and, Jasper was trying to help her with her homework.

"I won't burden you for any more than I already have," Edward said quietly, "I'll just put my shirt in to wash and leave."

"I said I'd wash it for you," I sighed.

His eyes brightened a little, it made his smile seem happier. I'd never noticed it looked hallow unless his eyes sparkled as well, "Thank you, Bella."

There it was again.

He hadn't even said my full name and it still felt like someone had touched me with a live wire.

He unbuttoned the red, flannel shirt and handed it to me.

He was thin. Too thin. The undershirt he wore was black and worn. I could see the staunch outline of his ribs under his pectorals. His collar bones protruded too far out of his shoulders. I had to bite my lips to keep from gasping.

He knew it.

He looked down a little, ashamed.

"Don't worry about me," he breathed; and, with one last glance into my eyes he went out the door.

I threw the red shirt somewhere and ghosted into the kitchen, praying that lightning would strike me and give me amnesia so I would forget about Edward.

I doubted that would happen. But, still I had to work something out so that I wouldn't get that heart wrenching feeling when I saw how unhealthy he looked. Perhaps my heart was overreacting because my head finally thought of him as my one true friend? He and I were similar—I thought he was keeping secrets. I really had no secrets; but, I felt secretive because there really wasn't much to me; and, that made me remarkable.

"Hola," Ali said, looking up from her biology book.

Jasper sat next to her and waved. "Oh, you look…um…upset?"

I glanced at my face in the chrome of the toaster, my eyebrows were drown, and my pathetically, thin lips were turned down in a frown.

I twitched my nose, and shrugged, "I'm fine."

I lied. Again.

I grabbed a piece of bread and went into my room, turning on my computer to type the final draft of my history paper.

Edward, Edward, Edward, the very beat of my fingers against the keyboard started to sound like a staccato of his name.

I groaned, and finally climbed into my bed; glad that I dreamed about rain instead of Edward.

I made it my own personal goal to ignore Edward as much as possible; but, if I needed to talk to him I was going to be friendly. No need to seem like a monster; he'd been nice to me I could repay kindness with kindness.

Work was slow the next day. Edward finished the dishes and had nothing to do; I only had one table occupied; so Mario made us an Italian sundae and told us to go out into the dining room and eat and be merry.

It felt weird sitting across from Edward; I kept my eyes down, studying the checked pattern of the green-and-white, plastic tablecloth. I grabbed my spoon and dug into the warm dough balls and ice cream.

"So," Edward began, I glanced up at him then back down at the sundae.

"So," I countered, sucking on my spoon.

"How's life?" He asked, nodding and eating a chocolate-covered dough ball.

"It's ok," I said, and glanced at him, "what about you?"

"My life's pretty good right now, actually."

"Oh?" I asked I looked up at his dancing, green eyes.

"Yeah, I haven't really stayed in one place for a while. It feels good."

I nodded.

"So, why did you decided to just wander around for the rest of your life?"

He looked at me with a guarded expression. Like he was debating whether or not to tell me the entire story; half of it would have been fine with me. I just wanted to get a glimpse into his life, to see the motives behind the actions.

"I just didn't want to stay in one place…After my parents' death; I was left with a fairly good inheritance. But, I didn't want to just waste it in one place. I took college courses as soon as I could and got a degree; but, it just didn't ever seem worth it. I didn't have what I wanted. I didn't know what I wanted."

"And you've found what you want here?" I asked, running my spoon around the dish to catch the last bits of ice cream.

"I guess I have. Like I said, it's refreshing to feel like I belong."

"Well then, I'm glad you feel like belong."

He smiled, "You're still curious."

"I am." I was past lying to Edward. He knew when I was lying to him.

"What do you want to know about?"

What did I want to know about? Somehow I couldn't remember; because something standoffish in his eyes told me that I shouldn't press. His smile was wide open; but, his eyes told me very distinctly that I really shouldn't press the matter further.

I shook my head, "Nothing."

His smile faded a little around the edges; his face was questioning, but his eyes were thankful.

Maybe this was how he read me so easily. He could see through my eyes the say way I was seeing through his.

"I don't want to really ask questions right now," I said.

He nodded, and didn't say anything else about his life. I didn't need to hear it. It made me sick to my stomach to think about it. To think about his motives. His reasons for wanting to be constantly and consistently alone.

There had to have been a bigger, back story there. But, I wasn't inclined to ask for it; and, he wasn't really inclined to tell. I knew that. I knew that if I were in his position I wouldn't want to be pressed for answers.

I didn't need to know anything about him.

Because every single bit of information got me further and further into his confidence and I wasn't sure that was what I wanted.

I suddenly remembered my high school prayers for a friend. Perhaps they were being answered…better late than never, right?

And, then I realized that what I thought I'd been quelling was a desire for friendship. I wanted to get to know him.

But, the true question was, was I worthy enough to be his friend?

Was that something I could do? I didn't understand why someone as interesting as Edward was supposed to be my friend. It didn't entirely make sense. But, what in life does? Nothing, actually, nothing at all.

* * *

**_DON'T HATE ME!! _Yeah, I know, I didn't update on Monday--but here's my valid reason: 9 INCHES OF SNOW. I'm dead serious. It's March, and I got 9 freakin' inches of snow. Of course, with all this snow came (dun, dun, dun) POWER OUTAGES. My power went out Sunday night and has yet to come back on (according to our power company were to be living like pioneers until supposedly Friday). My dad got the generator going so we have heat and one TV seat that runs, but no laptops, no Internet, no nothing. The only reason that I'm updating now is because I had to come to school today (despite not having power at my house) and thank GOD they have wireless Internet here, and I can update. So, I'm very sorry but as of right now this week's updating schedule will be totally screwed up. I don't know when I'll be able to update next, so right now I'm just doing one chapter of Seven Brides and one of The Great Bird Migration. I'm sorry if that's going to annoy you people--it annoys me too, but hopefully soon my power will come back on and everything will be back to normal.**

**Next chapter will be the springboard into all things DRAMA! :D**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"So what's up with you and that new kid?" Mario asked. I hated how he waited for Jasper to be in earshot. **

**I sighed and bit my tongue, "What do you mean?" I asked.**

**"You know what I mean," he said a hint of curiosity under his slight Brooklyn accent; I didn't miss how Jasper moved infinitesimally closer.**

**"Maybe I don't," I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest. **

**Jasper groaned, "Of course you do, stop messing with us!"**


	11. Smiling

**Chapter 11: Smiling**

Someone was knocking on the door. I hated this fact for two reasons, one being that I was in bed, warm and comfy. I wasn't too inclined to get up—considering the quilt I'd had since childhood now felt tepid and was in the perfect amount of disarray to fit my sleeping tastes. The second fact being Alice was gone to an early morning class; so, she wasn't there to deal with our early morning visitor.

I rolled out of bed and briefly glanced at myself in my mirror. I was dressed in a pair of fleece pants and my college-pride shirt. I looked like a sleepy, annoyed, person. I tried to comb my hair down with my fingers so I didn't look like a monster from Where The Wild Things Are.

I opened the door, attempting to be polite.

Edward stood on my doorstep in a clean T-shirt and new-looking jeans.

I had to blink a couple of times before I recognized him. It was only when his piercing, green eyes met mine did I truly knew it was him.

He looked so clean. And…handsome.

"Top of the mornin' to ya," he greeted with a dazzling smile.

"Um…hello," I said, stifling a yawn.

"You look lovely," he commented biting his lips in effort to asphyxiate a smile.

I looked down; he just had to bring my pajamas into this. Just had to.

"I'm going to shut the door on you; if you don't tell me why you're here by the time I count to three."

He laughed, "One…"

"Ok, ok, I just wanted to come see if you wanted to walk with me to work today."

"Do I look like I'm ready to go to work?"

"I said you looked lovely; I was being serious."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I muttered stalking away; but, I left the door open all the same.

He came in and sat on the couch as I got ready. I could feel his eyes on me as I scurried into the kitchen to grab a granola bar.

I tried not to look at him; because I was sure I would be studying him far more than I would have wanted. I sighed, when I was finally ready, he opened the door for me; and whistled as we walked down the sidewalk.

"So," I asked, "is there any specific reason you decided to walk me to work this morning?"

He shrugged and looked up at the sky, squinting when his eyes glinted like emeralds against the sun. "It was just a whim."

A whim. I could deal with that—at least it wasn't going to be like premeditated murder or something. Hopefully it wouldn't be like murder at all. Whatever tangent I'd gone off of in my thoughts about Edward being a serial killer—it must have alerted him to my bizarre train of thought because he started to laugh.

"What?! Why are you laughing at me?" I asked incredulously.

"The look on your face is just so funny," he chortled.

I scowled and stared at the pavement.

Mario gave us a strange look as we entered together. I accredited it to Edward's new wardrobe and nothing else.

Because it was the weekend, I didn't have any classes; so I had a full day's shift. A full day of looking at and being looked at by Edward; somehow that idea offended me.

Edward left his shift quickly; not even sparing a parting glance in my direction. I had half-expected him to walk me home.

"So what's up with you and that new kid?" Mario asked. I hated how he waited for Jasper to be in earshot.

I sighed and bit my tongue, "What do you mean?" I asked.

"You know what I mean," he said a hint of curiosity under his slight Brooklyn accent; I didn't miss how Jasper moved infinitesimally closer.

"Maybe I don't," I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms across my chest.

Jasper groaned, "Of course you do, stop messing with us!"

I glared, "Since when have you been part of this discussion?"

"Yeah," Mario agreed, "I just got a delivery order—go do your job!"

Jasper huffed a sigh, and then ducked around us to grab the box and back out the door; he shot me a withering look over his shoulder. I snickered.

"I do want an answer, Missy, stop edging toward the door." I had, indeed been creepy towards the back door and the freedom that it entailed.

I snapped my fingers, "So what is it exactly that you're giving me the third degree about?"

"You and Edward."

'You and Edward made me laugh internally. There was no me and Edward. It just didn't work out that way. We didn't have a relationship; or anything else of the sort. We had a…well, there actually weren't words for two people who regardless of fate seemed to be intrinsically linked.

Like our souls were entwined.

Soul mates just sounded wrong. Too romantic and sappy, too Romeo and Juliet. Some good it'd done them—they both ended up dead in the end. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were a good example; everything that happened to them was used as a ploy to get them to the end where they eventually fell in love.

There was no love between Edward and me. There was hardly even 'like'. I just wasn't going to even go there with my thoughts.

I sighed, "Edward and I are just friends. I barely even know the guy! I walk to work with him one morning, and everybody's sending out wedding invitations! What's the big deal?!"

"The big deal is," Mario said evenly, "for the several months I've known you I've seen you in a total of four relationships. The first being with your brother and sister-in-law; you're cordial to them, and sometimes despite yourself you actually smile when you're around them. The other relationships are Jasper and his girlfriend. You seem to not like Jasper—I don't blame you, he is kind of weird." I laughed and he smirked as he continued, "But, the girl. I mean, no offense but, you're relationship with her seems kinda one-sided. You're end is just hollow."

"You're calling me shallow?" I asked, incredulously.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," he corrected, "I meant that you don't befriend people easily. You're shy, and so to see you walking in with Edward this morning. I dunno; it just kind of made me get to thinking."

"Well, don't worry yourself about it. It's just happenstance—a nonevent. Besides, did you see how he left today; I practically have him running for the hills."

Mario muttered and turned back to the stoves.

I sighed, and grabbed my coat off the peg forgoing a farewell to Mario. I didn't particularly wish to speak with him any farther.

I hated how my head decided to relive looking into Edward's eyes one final time before he left. How desolate and confused they seemed. They darkened to almost anthracite when they met my gaze. He looked so upset. I wanted to comfort him.

I hate feeling like that.

But, I guess that's how friends feel about each other. Friendship was supposed to be give and take. But, it was the give that meant the most.

I wasn't a professional at having friendships. But from my view of the world, it seemed to be a hit-and-miss kind of thing.

I thought about how I was with Alice. She was always doing things for me. I wondered what I'd done for her. I lived with her, for one thing. I helped her with her homework. I cooked dinner for her. That made me sound more like a parent than a friend. But, did I listen to her problems? Did I offer advice for problems she was having?

No wonder her parents thought I was a bad influence. I gave her the kind of friendship she might get if she kept a rock for a pet.

How was I with Edward?

A little distant, vague. I figured that my random impulses to take out his two front teeth probably weren't the friendliest of gestures. But, Edward was kind. I couldn't help but remember the walk I took with him in the rain. Where he'd given his umbrella to the young couple in need; and, where he'd said he wanted to be 'sunny' to people.

It was uncanny how kind he was. Normal people weren't like that.

Normal people cut people off while coming into the highway, normal people were the ones that didn't stop to help little old ladies walk across the street. The world was full of these pathetic, lifeless, hopelessly normal people.

I hated to be normal. I wanted too be like Edward. To be a friend like Edward.

I opened the door to our apartment and walked in, wondering how my revelation would affect the way I saw Ali.

She was sitting at the table when I came in, working on her homework.

"How were classes today?" I asked nonchalantly.

She looked up at me, a smile brightening her pale features. "I had a pretty good day; I actually paid attention in history; so this homework isn't too hard."

I laughed, the action was a little forced—but hopefully it still sounded genuine, "That's always a good thing, paying attention."

"You always pay attention," she stated, pointing to me with the eraser end of her mechanical pencil.

I shrugged, "I have nothing else better to occupy my thoughts."

She sighed, "I do think about other things a lot."

I coughed to try to hide my sarcastic laugh, "Yeah, I'd guess Jasper would occupy your thoughts."

She threw a napkin at me, "Ha ha," she said sarcastically, "I think about other things than my boyfriend."

"Fine," I justified, "but, you can't lie to me; he does occupy the majority of your thoughts."

"I think about you too."

She did?

She thought about me? Wow. Not sure I deserved her attention.

"Oh," was all I could say as I took a soda out of the fridge. The tab made a popping and shivering sound as I opened it and took a swig.

"Yeah," she said, looking down at her paper. "I mean, not in a weird way. But, you're a really good friend of mine—of course I wonder about how you're doing when we're apart."

I opened my mouth; but, stopped when I felt a blush warm my cheeks.

She smiled, "You hungry? I was thinking about giving Mario some business and getting Jasper to bring us a pizza."

"Sure," I nodded.

She scrunched up her nose and laughed, "We eat there way too much!"

I smiled in return and shook my head, "We're college students—we eat pizza and ramen, it's what we're supposed to do."

She laughed and got up to hunt down our elusive telephone.

I heard her talking to Mario from the other room, ordering us our large extra cheese.

I sighed and started in on my homework. Typing the final draft of my Pride and Prejudice rewrite; I left my door open, to hopefully allow easy conversation between Alice and I.

I'd never really realized how talkative she was. She chattered about everything and nothing at all. From her lengthy descriptions of her recent outings with Jasper, I came to realize he wasn't such a bad guy.

He knocked on our door about twenty minutes later, our dinner in hand.

"Hey, Sweet Stuff," he said, leaning over and giving Alice a chaste kiss. It still put knots in the pit of my stomach to see them do that. It was disgusting. Mouths are filthy, dirty. Why would you want to touch your germs to someone else's?

Cynical thinking. I smirked to myself—you can have a revelation about your need for friendship; but, that doesn't change how your outlook on romance is.

"Bella," he nodded in my general direction as I leaned out of my doorway.

"Jasper," I nodded at him and decided to try a smile.

He looked at me like I had a third eye and then returned my smile tentatively, "Why are you smiling at me—you're not going to kill me are you?"

Was I that much of a psycho? I didn't think so—but, I had a skewed perspective of things.

"Maybe," I had to say it.

Alice shot me a withering glance, "Probably not, though," I amended.

Her features softened a little, she glanced up at Jasper to gauge his expression. He brushed a stray lock of her dark brown hair away from where it curled over her ear and under her jaw.

I looked away.

The phone rang, and I dove around the lovebirds to get it.

"Hola?" I asked.

"Hey there," it was Emmett; his voice was fully saturated with excitement.

I glanced at my calendar, it was the first week in February, I briefly wondered why that hit a familiar note in my brain—I realized soon after that this was the week his child was due.

"She had the baby?!" I guessed my eyes wide in excitement.

Emmett laughed, his voice coming through exuberant; something that even the phone lines couldn't lose, "Eleanor Anne Swan, she weighs 6 pounds and 8 ounces, she's got her mom's blonde hair and gray eyes!"

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. My niece; I heard a soft cry in the background of the cell phone static, and then Rosalie's musical voice as she quieted the baby.

"How's Rose?" I asked.

"Just fine, glowing like the sun in the morning," he laughed.

"And what about you, Dad?" I asked sure the new name would suit him just fine.

He laughed, "I'm so excited I'm about to explode." I heard Rosalie laugh in the background.

"Well, congratulations," I said, genuinely happy.

I heard the baby start to whimper and then cry, his voice sounded a little rushed as he said, "Well, I got to go and be a dad now," despite the eagerness to go attend to his baby, I could still hear the note of sheer love and adoration in his gruff voice. It sounded like he'd been crying recently.

I laughed, and smiled to myself, "Alright, bye, Dad."

"Bye, Auntie."

I chuckled as I hung up the phone. I was still laughing slightly when I walked out into the living room, where Jasper sat next to Alice on the couch; she was turned so that her legs were strewn across his lap.

"What's so funny, Bella?" Jasper asked with wary curiosity.

"Nothing," I said smiling so wide my cheeks hurt, "I'm just really happy."

"Why?"

"My sister-in-law just had her baby!" I was really excited.

Alice raised her delicate eyebrows, "Em's wife?" She asked.

I nodded, "It's a little girl named Eleanor."

"Who straddles a kid with the name 'Eleanor'?" Jasper asked.

I grabbed a pillow and chucked it at his head, "Shut up, I think it's a pretty name."

"Whatever," Jasper said.

"What kind of a name is Jasper?" I asked, cocking my head to the side and looking at him with baleful eyes.

"Point taken," he said pouting.

I smiled victoriously and then disappeared into my room, giving them some privacy.

I printed my paper and then sprawled across my bed; lounging as I ate a piece of pizza I had snagged from the kitchen.

I closed my eyes and saw memories behind them.

'Bella, come away from the road!' I heard the yell distinctly in my head; I remember turning to face Emmett. He was always tall, even at the tender age of ten. He had run to grab my hand before I ventured out over the curb. I remember being distraught with him, until he hoisted me into his arms and spun me around so I was on his back. He gave the best piggyback rides.

I smiled. That little girl was going to have the best Dad ever. He'd be the best playmate and when the inevitable time of adolescence came; he would be her warden. Guarding her against the nefarious agendas of teenage boys.

I fell asleep an empty plate across the flat plain of my ribcage, dreaming about a time long ago—when I was surrounded by all my older brothers. Their toothy smiles and gray eyes alight as we played together. The vision of all of them as men was disturbing when it hit; where had time gone. It was like rocks thrown against the feeble glass of a window.

* * *

**Now, who could that possibly be at her window...? ;) And Emmett and Rose get a baby girl! Yay! I can totally see Emmett with a daughter. He'd make an awesome Daddy, she's most certainly going to be a princess. **

**So, Bella's finally trying to work through some of her issues. I know a lot of people have commented on how angsty Bells is in this story, and I have to say the Bella in this story is very similar to how I am. She doesn't make friends easily, and the few friends she does have she's terrified to get close to because she's used to being ostrasized. I am a pro at being the outsider. Anyways, it's easier for her to be harsh to people (ie. Jasper) because being rude and mean is easier than trying to befriend people. Belive me, this, too, I am good at. **

**Next chapter, we get Edward's back story!! :D Next update should be on Sunday if I'm not too busy!!**

**And, as always, reviews are the fuel that keeps little ol' me goin'. **

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"I don't know where to start," he muttered.**

**"The beginning is good," I soothed. **

**He let out a dark, humorless laugh, "My life has been a series of events that have all led me to the person I am. And, not any of these events have been good. Granted some of them were self-inflicted. I had to be the way I was to get over certain things-and it made me into the person I am. The awful person I am."**

**"You're not awful," I said.**

**"That's a lie. I'm the blackest kind of person."**

**I shook my head, "I don't believe that, I know you Edward."**


	12. Miserable

****

Chapter 12: Miserable

My head must've had rocks and windows on the mind; because around midnight I could have sworn someone was throwing rocks at my first floor window. I sighed and rolled over, pulling my quilt up over my ear to drown out the tapping noise. It continued despite my indifference.

I was about ready to go give Jasper an earful about getting the right window—Alice's was to the left of mine—but, when I pushed up the glass pane it wasn't Jasper that stood facing me, but Edward.

His starkly white features shone in the moonlight, his mop of copper hair making him look unbelievably pale. His green eyes sparkled darkly. More like beryl instead of the emeralds they were in the sun.

It was cold, so he had his hands shoved deeply within his pockets in a sad attempt to cover his bare arms. His breath was a pale cloud in front of his thin, wide lips. He smiled at me.

"What do you want?" I asked in a whisper.

"I want to talk with you," he retorted, smiling again and taking in a cold, shuttering breath.

I rolled my eyes, "Come inside then," I said gesturing for the front door.

He shook his head obstinately, "No, come with me."

"Are you insane, it's freezing out here!"

He still smiled but shrugged, "Just get a coat."

"This couldn't have waited 'til morning?" I asked.

He shook his head.

I sighed, "Of course not, that would be too normal." I stalked back into my room to grab a coat and a pair of shoes.

He held his hand through the open window.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said looking at him wide eyed, "I can't use the front door?"

"No, it would wake your roommate," he shook his head again.

"Honestly," I muttered and let him help me out of the open window.

Well, this was spontaneous of me. Perhaps it was because I was still half asleep so I would naturally agree to any asinine plan someone fed me.

I came to my senses enough to realize he'd never let go of my hand; I jerked it away and glared at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I forgot."

"Try to remember that, please," I said as cordially as I could muster at the early hour.

He nodded.

"So what exactly are we doing?" I asked, looking around nervously.

"You were curious, remember. I just had to work out some stuff before I decided to tell you."

He'd officially lost me. What was I curious about?

I didn't entirely remember. He saw the bemused look on my face and filled me in, "When I was telling you about my previous life. You still looked curious; I only grazed over the facts. But, if you want me to, I can tell you my story."

I did want him to; but, it wasn't like I was going to tell him that. My eyes did the talking for me as I looked up at him. He nodded and kept leading me to wherever it was we were going.

"Where are we going?" I asked, after a while.

"The oak tree," he responded automatically, as if he'd rehearsed this scenario.

I nodded, somehow, I knew it.

The air was colder while we were walking; the wind biting at every exposed inch of frost-bite susceptible skin.

"Are you cold?" He asked conversationally.

I shrugged, "A little."

"I'm sorry," he responded, "I should have brought you a coat."

I shook my head, "What about you?"

"I'm fine, I'm used to it."

He was still shivering, though. And that upset me.

I wondered what his story was. I racked my brain to try to remember what exactly he'd told me before—when I first was curious. He'd said his parents died. I distinctly remembered that; but, then he looked like he was afraid to say anything else.

I began to get very nervous as we neared the oak tree.

It looked so ominous in the dim shade of the night; a dark splotch against the lighter gray backdrop of the campus buildings. It looked more like a scene out of a painting than something in real life.

Edward hauled himself up into one of the branches just above his head, when he was comfortably situated on that branch; he reached down for my hand.

"Are you nuts?" I asked, "Or don't you remember what happened the last time I did this?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Just get onto one of the lower branches; you'll be fine."

I grumbled to myself as I tried to blindly find a good, thick branch. It was difficult when all the dark shapes of the tree blurred together within my rather awful night-vision.

I finally got my leg up over a branch and rested my back against the trunk. Edward was to my left and about three feet higher. I wasn't going any higher and he knew that so he took a deep breath to begin his story.

I saw his white lips part as if he were beginning to speak and then he closed them again sighing.

"I don't know where to start," he muttered.

"The beginning is good," I soothed.

He let out a dark, humorless laugh, "My life has been a series of events that have all led me to the person I am. And, not any of these events have been good. Granted some of them were self-inflicted. I had to be the way I was to get over certain things—and it made me into the person I am. The awful person I am."

"You're not awful," I said.

"That's a lie. I'm the blackest kind of person."

I shook my head, "I don't believe that, I know you Edward."

"No, you don't know me at all," his voice had a tone to it that frightened me.

"Then let me get to know you," I prodded.

He sighed and began his tale.

"I was born in Illinois, twenty-one years ago to Edward and Elizabeth Masen. My parents were fairly well off—my father had inherited a goodly sum from my grandfather who had been a stock broker in New York his entire life. My mother stayed at home, and my father worked at a local bank. We had a house on a waterfront, over looking Lake Michigan.

"My father was a good man, who people respected. I was the pride of my father; he always brought me to the bank with him during the summer and I would work odd jobs for him, all the while thinking that my life was perfect.

"When I was six my parents informed me that they were having another child. I was ecstatic; I always wanted to be a big brother. And then, my little brother was born. My parents named him Seth; they had a fondness for little used names," he laughed briefly, "with his dark hair and brown eyes, he was the spitting image of my father—I more resemble my mother. She used to call us her three Musketeers.

"I didn't know it at the time; but, my mom had been really sick when she was pregnant with Seth. It started to take its toll on the both of them. Seth was always so sick and kind of pale. I didn't ever know what was going on with him—but, as I grew older I began to understand. He was just too weak. My mother always put on a brave face when he would be coughing so hard he could barely breathe; but, I knew she blamed herself."

He took a deep breath, and stared unseeingly up into the canopy of the trees.

I knew where this story was going. His parents died. But, how could he be so careless and leave his brother behind? Didn't he love him?

Edward continued, still staring up, "One night, I was babysitting Seth. I was twelve and he was six. It was dark," he took a shuddering breath, "and raining. They didn't even have a chance…" His voice was a whisper then as he spoke past the lump in his throat, "they couldn't see the car coming at them; it didn't have its headlights on. I'm told they both died instantly.

"Like I said, they didn't even have a chance."

My heart stopped beating.

"Seth and I were alone. We had no family. My mother was an only child whose parents had died long before either of us were born; and, my father's parents were both dead, too.

"We were put into foster care. Shipped from house to house.

"No one understood the special care my brother needed. I took on the role of both father and mother to him.

"I swore to myself that I never would love anyone else but him. He was my life—I wouldn't lose him too. I couldn't lose him."

I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them, looking up slightly at Edward.

His posture was hunched forward; he was staring at the grain of the wood between his folded knees.

He looked lost in thought.

We sat quietly for a while, he looked down at the top of my head; and, meeting my eyes he continued.

"Seth and I made a pact to only look out for each other. We'd never grow attached to our foster parents. He never attended school, he always studied at home—but, during the ever present days of my public school education I was the constant brunt of all ridicule.

"I never stood up for myself; until one day.

"Seth and I had been talking. He was so little; but, still wanted to look out for me that way I looked out for him. He was tending to a bloodied lip I got that day.

"'You can't keep doing this, Edward, he said. I shook my head at him, 'I have to,' I replied.

"He didn't believe me.

"'Edward,' he whispered, 'I know that you miss Mommy and Dad; but, you still can get attached to people', he said.

"He knew that I didn't want to get to know anyone or have anyone know me in return. When you grow attached to someone it's just that much easier for you to be hurt when they leave or die.

"I didn't want that. I acted out in school, at home—just so we would be moved constantly. So people would look at me like the brat I was and pity Seth because he had a delinquent for a brother."

I was having trouble believing what Edward was saying.

He acted out? He was a delinquent?

He was the nicest boy I'd ever met. The most cordial boy I'd ever met. What could happen? What could change his outlook so much? I mused that it was probably his little brother. Seth seemed to be exactly like the Edward I knew.

"What happened then?" I asked in a whisper.

He snorted, and shook his head running a hand through the tendrils of his red hair.

"You said that you were a delinquent," I whispered quietly and quickly, "but, I don't believe that. How can I? You're the kindest person I've ever met."

When he responded I could hear a smile in his voice, "I'm kind now. Because I've been so distant from people for so long; that I've begun to see what I missed in my adolescence. The things I missed and Seth saw.

"He was always so kind and thoughtful. He was selfless; even when his body was so weak that he could barely stand, he'd always come and meet me at the front door when I got home from school. Sometimes I knew he was probably standing there for nearly an hour before I got home. He was so small, I would just carry him back to his room—and sit with him for a while telling him about my day.

"I always got advice from him. It seemed a little backwards, though. My little brother giving me advice on my own life. I was the one who was supposed to be mentoring him.

"But, he was wise beyond his years; he always knew what to do for certain problems I was having.

"I felt like somehow, I was helping him live the life he would have had through my hopefully vivid descriptions of mundane high school verve.

"When I finally graduated high school, I was able to take Seth in myself—we weren't anyone else's responsibility but mine. I liked it that way. I set out to make sure he was well and comfortable.

"I'd realized over the last year that he was growing weaker and weaker. He could barely stand; but, he always assured me he was sure he would get better."

I paled as I started to see a horrifying trend in Edward's story. His parents had died. And his brother was ailing, and worsening with every turn and syllable of Edward's story. I closed my eyes hoping I wouldn't cry when Edward came to the inevitable.

"I came home from college classes one day, to find him lying in bed, blood on his pillow.

"I was terrified. I'd asked him what was wrong.

"He just apologized, and said he'd been coughing really, really hard. I reached out to cradle his sad face in my hand and was horrified when I found it was cold to the touch.

"I sat up with him all that night; rubbing his frail back when he coughed so hard that blood spewed from his lungs.

"I remember exactly what I was thinking as dawn broke across the lower panels of his bedroom window. I was making plans for what to do with him in the next few days. I couldn't keep this up. Staying up with him night after night. I had to take him to the hospital to make sure that he got the kind of care he needed. I wasn't a doctor I barely knew what to do for him when he was having a coughing fit—all I could do was hold him and tell him it would pass."  
I was staring up at Edward intently. It startled me when he bit his bottom lip, and I saw the shine of a tear across his high cheekbone.

I realized that his next sentence would be bleak.

"He died in my arms that morning."

I had to bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling.

"I was just about to call the ambulance because he could barely breathe; when he looked up at me. I could tell he couldn't see me; his eyes were too dark. 'Edward,' he said, I could barely understand him, 'I'm sorry, I know you wanted me to be with you'. He closed his eyes after that, and never opened them again.

"I don't know how long I cried over him.

"I knew from that moment on I was going to strive to be like him—so I wouldn't forget. I would never forget."

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled looking down.

"I miss him so much," Edward said.

"He would be proud of the man you've become."

"Would he?"

"I'd say so," I whispered back to him, "because, you've grown to be kind. I understand now why you've done the things you've done."

"We're alike, you know," Edward stated, his voice muted.

"How so?" I asked.

"Because, you're afraid to get close to people, too."

I couldn't argue with that.

I wasn't going to try to argue with that.

We sat in the tree for a while; sometimes we stared at each other and sometimes, we stared out over the horizon line as the moon sunk deeper below the edge of our sight.

The gold of the morning made me wonder exactly how long we'd been sitting there in silence.

I looked up at Edward. His eyes had slid closed for the moment; but, I could tell he wasn't asleep. His breathing was uneven—like he was recuperating from a broken heart.

I reached up into the canopy and grabbed a low-hanging branch so I could steady myself as I pulled myself up to the branch Edward sat on.

He opened his sad eyes when I sat right in front of him.

I succumbed to my heart for a brief moment as I leaned forward and folded Edward in a warm embrace. His forehead rested against the crook of my neck and shoulder. He was cold. I felt his arms snake around to my back.

I rested my cheek against his soft, pine-smelling hair and settled in for the morning. Closing my eyes as the songs of the morning birds wove a lullaby just for us.

* * *

**So there's Edward's story. I cried while writing it. I hope it's ok. Probably not what people were expecting...but...I totally adored Seth in all of the Twilight books, and I wanted to figure out a way to incorporate him into this story and he just fit in the part of being related to Edward. I hope everybody liked this chapter--please let me know what you think!**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"That's impressive," Edward intoned.**

**"It's so far away," I said, my thoughts far off, "all of my family is moving on."**

**"That's it isn't it?" He asked.**

**I blinked, "What?"  
****  
"You feel like people are leaving you behind."**


	13. Electricity

**Chapter 13: Electricity**

When I awoke I was, at the very least, warm. My back was stiff from having sat in a tree for the greater majority of the pervious night.

I didn't realize through the haze of my half-asleep state that the tree was moving, very slightly, under me. I opened my eyes, squinting up against the light of the glaring sun.

I closed them to escape the darkness; but, I couldn't escape the ever present image of Edward's tale. I racked my brain for something to replace the impression. I turned my head to the side, and burrowed my nose into something warm and pleasant smelling.

I yawned.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

I knew that voice, it was Edward.

I realized, belatedly, that I had once again mistaken Edward for a tree. He was carrying me bridal style through Main Street. The morning commuters were giving us weird looks.

I screeched and started to squirm, "Put me down!"

He shook his head and smiled, "We're almost to your apartment; you can bear this a little while longer."

I harrumphed and crossed my arms across my chest like a sulky child.

He laughed; and, kept up his liquid smooth gate.

"I'm not too heavy?" I asked raising my eyebrows.

"Nope, light as a feather."

Crap. So much for trying to get him to wimp out of carrying me.

"I'm sorry I upset you last night," he said quietly, his voice was musical.

I shook my head, "I just never imagined that you'd have had a life like that."

He laughed humorlessly, "Neither did I."

We were quiet for a while.

"You know," he began, chewing on his words as he said them, "This is the first time I've carried anyone like this since Seth died."

I hated myself. In that brief moment—being compared to his younger, beloved brother I wanted to die.

I was also overwhelmingly grateful to him; because it meant a lot to me that he thought enough of me to show me this overtly kind and loving gesture. I settled into the lay of his arms; attempting to be chipper about it.

My skin still stung where he touched me; but, I tried to ignore it. It wasn't supposed to cause people physical pain when someone else touched them. It was just my subconscious trying to send me into upheaval.

"You don't have to carry me," I said; he knew I meant that if it was unearthing memories that he'd rather just forget, then he could put me down.

Edward shook his head, "No. I want to carry you."

I nodded and closed my eyes; hoping sleep would once again close over me. My body felt numb with exhaustion and sleep-deprivation.

I let the darkness behind my eyelids take me and soon I was lulled to sleep by the steady pace of Edward's footsteps and the beating of his heart.

It was light outside the windows when my eyes opened again. I strained my ears to hear if Alice was there; but, my memory told me that because it was Sunday she and Jasper would be out on a date.

So, when I threw out my senses to catch a brief sound buzzing in my ears; it took me a little by surprise.

I hadn't expected to hear the soft sound of someone's even breathing close to my head.

I opened my eyes to find I was lying on the couch—Edward on the floor beside me; he was just as asleep as I had been several minutes hence.

He looked younger in his sleep. His white eyelids closed over his brilliant green eyes. I knew I couldn't move him onto the couch; my efforts to lift him would probably wake him. I settled for lifting his head and sliding a pillow under his ear and covering him with a blanket.

The clock on the microwave told me that it was half past noon. The day was half gone and I hadn't even started in on my weekend homework. I sighed and brought my books to the kitchen table so I could keep an eye on Edward.

I finished quickly—probably answering several questions incorrectly in my haste; but, I didn't feel like doing homework so my pathetic effort would have to suffice.

I looked through the meager contents of my refrigerator thanking God when I found we actually had eggs. I could at least cook us a breakfast worthy of royalty. Edward deserved a good meal—if anything, I knew how emotionally draining reliving bad experiences could be.

My bad experiences—namely high school—paled in comparison, however, to the horror-novel life Edward had lived.

It was after three o'clock by the time he began to stir. I'd just started cooking the scrambled eggs. I saw him sit up and try several times to gain his bearings. I walked into the living room and leaned over the back of the couch, he looked up at me confusion on his face.

I smiled wryly, "You carried me home," I told him.

"Oh, so I did talk to you last night."

I nodded, "Thought you'd dreamed it, did you?"

He shook his head infinitesimally, "No, I'd hoped that I hadn't. I shouldn't have."  
I was offended, "Why shouldn't you have."

"It was my burden to bear," he shrugged, "I'd sworn to myself not to burden people with the shadow of what I once was."

"It's not a burden for me," I said, "sometimes you have to tell people to make it better."

He shook his head, "It didn't make it better it just made me feel sad, again."

"I'm sorry then," I said.

He shook his head again, and surprised me when he cursed under his breath, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended," I lied. "I'm sorry that it didn't help you any."

He smiled, just a tug of the corner of his lips, "In a way though, it did. Because someone finally listened."

I blushed. "I just did what someone should have done long ago."

"What's that?" He asked, turning his head to the side like a puppy, his floppy hair hanging across his cheeks and eyes.

"What do you mean?" We were both confusing each other.

"What should someone have done long ago?" He asked.

"Oh," I said blinking a few times, "It meant that someone should have listened to you a long time ago."

He shook his head again, shooting down my theory, "I wouldn't have told anyone."

I was peeved, I worried at my bottom lip, "Then why did you tell me?"

"I don't know."

I sighed and pursed my lips, "Breakfast is ready," I declared, closing the previous subject. I made a face, "Ok, so it's actually nearly dinner—but, it's breakfast food so the term still fits."

He laughed quietly, stood, cracked his back and sauntered into the kitchen.

"Wow, you actually did make breakfast!"

"You thought I was lying?" I asked and thumped a spatula against my palm meaningfully.

He chuckled, "I just didn't think you'd go all out."

I nodded, and served him a big plate of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon.

"You know," he mused, "I haven't had bacon since my parents died."

I snapped my mouth shut, because it had fallen open at the sheer sadness of the statement.

"I'm sorry," I looked down, concentrating n the spatula in my let hand; I gripped the edge of the counter with my right.

I hadn't realized that he had come to stand in front of me until his cool fingers curled around my tight fist.

"I upset you," he murmured.

I shook my head and pulled away, "No. I just—it was presumptuous of me to do something like that. To bring up bad memories."

"No, it was a good memory. A memory of better times.

"You're giving me more memories to replace the bad ones, thank you, my friend."

We were friends. I liked that. I finally had a friend.

I sat across from him and ate our pseudo-breakfast.

It was easy to laugh when he was laughing. It was easier to leave my mask behind; because I didn't have to pretend. He saw through me when I was pretending, so it was useless to even try.

He was on his third plate of eggs when he finally attempted to delve into the frightful labyrinth of emotions that was my life.

"So," he began, skewering a lump of eggs with his fork, "what's your story?"

"I don't really have one," I muttered; pushing food across my plate instead of eating it.

"Everyone has a story," he pressed.

I sighed, "Fine. I was born in Forks, Washington almost nineteen years ago. I have three older brothers: Emmett, Garrett and Benjamin. They're all out of college.

"You've met Emmett," I said smiling wryly, "he's eight years older than I am. He and his wife just had a little girl."

"Well congratulations to them," he interrupted.

I laughed, "My second oldest brother Garrett is probably engaged…we haven't gotten a formal announcement of it—but, I have my speculations.

"And Benjamin just graduated Bible College and is currently getting ready to move to Seattle to take over a youth pastor position."

"That's impressive," Edward intoned.

"It's so far away," I said, my thoughts far off, "all of my family is moving on."

"That's it isn't it?" He asked.

I blinked, "What?"

"You feel like people are leaving you behind."

I frowned and chewed on a piece of toast, "No, I guess it just feels like everyone's been moving but me. Like someone hit the pause button on my life and everyone else is on fast forward.

"It's like I'm just watching things that I should be taking part in."

He nodded and then gave me a stern look, "Have you ever thought that maybe it's up to you to hit play again?"

I closed my eyes and hung my head, "Some people are afraid to."

He quirked an eyebrow, "That's part of being human, though, fear."

I sighed and stared at my hands fisted in my lap.

"Do you think it would be possible that someone might come along and you would want to live for them?"

I shook my head, "No one like that exists."

"You can't know that."

"The only good guys exist in fairy tales and romance novels. In real life it's only Joe Schmoe off the street. Women waste their lives waiting for their knights in shining armor. Love at first sight is just a plot device authors came up with to put the average love to shame."

"For someone so cynical, you sound so hopeful that something like that might actually exist."

I was taken aback. "I'm not hopeful. I'm just trying to get by. Someday someone might come along that's disillusioned enough to fall for me and I guess I'd accept him, hoping for happiness."

"You shouldn't settle." He said, disgusted, "You have to refuse Mr. Collins before Mr. Darcy comes along."

"What?" I blushed.

"Pride and Prejudice," he responded, "I assume you've read it considering you have a copy of it on your coffee table. I highly doubt it's your roommate's."

I bit my bottom lip and laughed humorlessly, "You have no idea how many times I've wished Mr. Darcy did exist."

He drew his eyebrows in dark lines over his jade eyes, "How would you know he doesn't exist?"

"Because," I countered, jabbing with my fork for added emphasis, "how can he? And even if he did, he'd be pining after someone worth his time."

"You have a very dim view of yourself," he retorted.

"I understand that you meant that as a compliment; but, if you truly wanted to sound kind I wouldn't have phrased it that way," I snorted.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, "I didn't mean it that way. I meant that you don't see yourself the way others see you."

"Which is good because other people see me as an antisocial psycho!"

"Who thinks that?" I could hear a smothered smile in his voice.

"Go ask my entire high school," I snapped.

"Everyone hated me in high school," he retorted as if that would make things better.

"But that was by your own design! I tried to fit in. I tried to be like everyone else! But I couldn't."

"I'm glad you failed." He was serious, his eyes hard. I had to blink fiercely to keep back the tears swimming in front of my eyes.

He smiled warmly, "I like you the way you are," he amended quietly, "you wouldn't be you if you were any other way."

That was the point. I knew exactly who I'd be if I weren't like this. I'd be Isabella Swan clone to the rest of the college-aged, female population. I'd be unremarkable in every way; but, I would fit in. I wouldn't be the one thorn in people's sides.

Edward softened, and then smiled, "If you were just like everyone else then you wouldn't be half as interesting."

"I'm interesting?" I asked skeptically.

"Very interesting," he informed me.

I sighed. I'd never been interesting and I wasn't entirely sure that was a desirable character trait.

Edward stood and deposited his plate in the sink.

"Thank you for breakfast."

I nodded, "Your welcome."

He smiled, "I would say we have to do this again sometimes; but, I'm not sure either of us wants that."

I laughed quietly, "Until the next time, then?" I asked with a sarcastic smile.

He nodded returned the smile, "Next time"

I walked him to the door.

"Thank you for satiating my curiosity," I said.

He nodded, and pressed his lips thinly. He looked like he was debating something with himself.

I narrowed my eyes, "What's the matter?"

He shook his head, and then looked down at the pavement of the front step. He looked out under the fringe of his rumpled, dark hair; his eyes pierced through me. He was obviously still arguing with himself.

"Good bye, Isabella."

He lifted his hand and with his finger tips, he brushed my cheek. His touch was like electricity.

* * *

**I want to eat breakfast food late in the afternoon with Edward... :) **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter--I was really worried about the reception it would get, but you guys went above and beyond to tell me that it was good. I'm sorry Seth had to die, it killed me to do that...but at least Edward makes sense now. I know it may seem like this story is coming to a close, but it's not! I've got one more major thing that's going to happen and then it will be done. If you want to go look at the playlist I have for this story on my profile you might be able to figure it out! ;)**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**I flicked the switch on my laptop and waited as it hummed to life. I quickly turned on the internet.**

**I had some sleuthing to do. I wanted to find out exactly who Edward was.**

**I went to the search bar and typed in Edward. It was still too wide a search. What had he told me was his last name? Masen. Masen sounded about right.**

**'Edward Masen', I typed and hit enter waiting as my computer processed the results.**


	14. Flickers

**Chapter 14: Flickers**

"Look who's awake," Jasper said as he walked in the front door; Alice hot on his heels.

I was sitting on the couch, curled up with my quilt and my copy of Pride and Prejudice. I'd had my fill of living in reality—I was hoping that if I read it enough Mr. Darcy might jump out of the pages, grab me, and take me back to Netherfield with him.

"I've been awake since noon," I declared peevishly.

"I smell bacon," Alice interrupted furrowing her dainty eyebrows.

"What you smell, my dear, is the sweet smell of a mid-afternoon breakfast." I was feeling literary, so my assertion came out sounding a little out of place for the current time period.

"That's an oxymoron," Jasper said.

"A mid-afternoon breakfast is not an oxymoron, you're a moron, and we'll leave it at that." I stuck out my tongue childishly and retreated to my room. My quilt hung like a cape about my shoulders. I felt like Batman.

I was glad that I could escape with just my weirdness as an alibi.

I flicked the switch on my laptop and waited as it hummed to life. I quickly turned on the internet.

I had some sleuthing to do. I wanted to find out exactly who Edward was.

I went to the search bar and typed in Edward. It was still too wide a search. What had he told me was his last name? Masen. Masen sounded about right.

'Edward Masen', I typed and hit enter waiting as my computer processed the results.

The first result was to my liking. It was a newspaper from Chicago. I clicked on the article. It was an obituary.

'Mr. and Mrs. Edward Masen killed in car accident on the night of November 17. They were survived by their two children, Edward Junior and Seth. Edward Masen Senior managed the local Citizen's Bank; and, his wife stayed at home and cared for their children.'

The article was short.

I went back to the search engine and typed in 'Seth Masen'.

The first article was also an obituary.

'On the morning of September 2, Seth Masen died of health complications due to what is believed to be tuberculosis.'

Another short article. I kept scrolling down as I spotted Edward's name on the page.

'Edward Masen, the only remaining child of the late Mr. and Mrs. Masen, was reported missing in early October. After two months of searching, it is believed that foul play was not a factor in the disappearance; and, perhaps the case should be treated as a suicide.'

A suicide.

He left without a trace. They'd stopped searching for him.

He'd disappeared almost a month after Seth's death. He'd practically died with him.

If he'd wandered for so long—then why did he finally settle here? Wasn't that like giving up in a way? Or was he finally living up to what his brother would have wanted for him? Living a good life that his brother would have been proud of.

I hit the power button on my computer; not even caring if it didn't shut down properly and curled up on my bed. I pulled my quilt over my shoulders and slipped into a stiff and dreamless sleep.

I slept soundly until a clap of thunder woke me. I vaguely recognized that it was too early in the year for thunder storms. I flicked my light on and leaned out of my doorway.

Alice turned the light on when she caught sight of me she was turning the television on.

We had a severe thunderstorm warning. The weathermen seemed to be in a tizzy about the unseasonable weather.

The phone rang and it made us both jump. I regained my composure before Ali and answered the phone.

It was Jasper checking in on us. Alice immediately stole the phone from my grasp and invited him over.

It was 3 o'clock in the morning, hardly visiting hours; but, regardless Jasper was on his way.

He knocked at the door sooner than I would have imagined.

The rain had already begun to dump buckets of water on our small Washington town.

I wrapped my quilt around my shoulders, and stalked to the door. I wasn't in the mood to deal with Jasper this early in the morning.

I opened the door only to be met with an apple green stare.

He was sopping wet, and looked a little bit worse for wear.

"Edward," I breathed. I unconsciously reached out and pulled him inside. "What are you doing here?" I demanded.

His teeth were chattering, "I wanted to come check on you."

I narrowed my eyes, "Why would you care, it's just a thunderstorm."

He shrugged.

Suddenly his appearance made sense. He had been outside all night.

"Aren't you staying at the motel anymore?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

He opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it again.

"You were out there during this storm?" I asked in a whisper.

"Not exactly," he said and seemed to be not very inclined to tell me much more.

I wasn't going to have that. He was going to talk to me and I didn't care if I had to call my brothers to come beat him—I most certainly wouldn't have been much of a threat to his physical well being—until he told me.

I tipped my head forward, hoping that my look was fearsome enough to demand an answer.

"Fine," he whispered back furiously, "I've been sitting on your front porch since about midnight.

"That's like stalker-creepy," I informed him.

"I know—but, don't think I'm stalking you or anything I just didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Fine," I begrudged him. "At least you had presence enough of mind to come in when the storm hit in earnest."

He smiled a half smile and then looked warily back at Alice who was pressed against one of the far walls.

"Hello," he tipped his head cordially.

"Hi," she smiled. She seemed a little breathless about his sudden appearance.

Jasper walked into the door then, forgoing the normal knocking that a respectful person would have given to announce his appearance; but, it was Jasper and I didn't expect that much of him.

He glared a bit at Edward, who was staring obliviously at a wet patch of carpet under him, and put his arm around Ali.  
"Well, this isn't so bad," the words were hardly out of Jasper's mouth when our power stuttered, came on and off a couple times, and then finally died with an ominous dropping noise.

"You had to say it, Jasper," I accused.

"Sorry!!"  
"Do you have candles?" Edward asked being the only slightly sane person in the room.

"Fire generally isn't a good thing around Bella," Jasper piped up. He better have been glad that I couldn't see a foot in front of my nose or else I would have kicked him right in the gut.

"Do you have candles?" Edward repeated this time closer to my ear.

"Somewhere," I retorted.

"I have a flashlight!" Alice declared and then proceeded to turn it on so that it glared directly into Edward's and mine eyes.

After recovering from my brief period of blindness and several offhand attempts of Alice to apologize, Edward and I got to work searched for candles and other flammable materials.

We finally found several candles in low drawer in the kitchen. The five candles we had were then assembled on the coffee table all pointing out in different directions so we had a good amount of light.

Considering it was February, and I was still in a foul mood that we had thunder then, it was also drafty inside the apartment. I curled up in the recliner with my quilt and tried to tune everyone else out.

Jasper and Alice were off closer to the bedroom doors, huddled under a blanket, talking with their heads bent close together.

I refrained from looking for Edward. I was still kind of bewildered that'd he'd spend a goodly portion of the night on my front porch.

I shifted my position in the rocker only to realize Edward was sitting with his back against it, right below where my knees were bent up on the seat of the chair.

"Oh, sorry," he said, shifting away.

"You could get on the sofa, you know," I told him softly.

"I'm all wet," he responded, and then shifted away a little more.

I harrumphed and slid off my chair to find him a towel.

"I know it's not much," I said handing it to him, "but if you can dry off a little bit, then I could get you a blanket so you can stay warm."

He nodded and looked away shyly before removing his shirt and rubbing his torso with the towel. To keep my eyes occupied I went in search of the warmest blanket I could find.

I finally found a blanket. It was one of those gnarly wool things that probably weighed ten pounds. I said a silent prayer for those valiant sheep that had given their lives for this thing.

It smelled like moth balls and was rough like sandpaper, but it would do. I tried to wrap it around myself hoping that some of my body heat would seep through and make it warmer before I got to Edward.

He was still lounging against the Laz-e-Boy when I got back; his shirt and the towel draped across his outstretched knees.

"Here," I said handing the blanket to him.

He smiled a dim flicker of his white teeth in the candle light.

"Thank you."

I nodded and stepped over him to get back in the chair. I left my legs hanging over the edge; trying to ignore the shockwave it sent up my leg when he brushed against me.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"I don't mind," I lied.

"Yes you do," he retorted, leaning his head back and smiling up at me.

I sneered. "Fine, maybe I do. But, a normal person shouldn't so I'm trying to not let it bother me."

He nodded. And said nothing more.

"It's so dark," he mused, his voice a whisper, I could barely hear him.

It was dark.

And it was growing colder as the time without our heater progressed.

I didn't respond; I couldn't find my voice.

He sat quietly, his eyes seemed millions of miles away. A different time a different place.

I fell asleep and slumped forward in the chair.

I had a dream that I was standing in a dark room, watching as certain events unfolded in front of my eyes.

A small boy lay in a large bed in the center of the room, he looked terribly sad. I walked to his bedside and asked him what was the matter. My voice sounded like an echo in my ears.

He said he was sad because he didn't want to go away.

I told him he didn't have to.

He just rolled over and faced away from me. I placed my hand against his back, he was cold.

Unnaturally cold.

I gasped and pulled away, and ran to face him. His eyes were wide open in death. I screamed—but, not because he was dead; but, because his eyes were such a startling translucent olive colour that I thought Edward was dead in my dreams. It wasn't him. It was a boy who had died nearly three years ago. Someone I had never met; and, would never have the pleasure of meeting.

I pulled away from him and started to cry, screaming through my sobs.

"Bella!" My shoulder was shaking.

Edward was leaning over me. His green eyes bright even in the light of a candle.

"Bella, wake up," he was saying frantically, "what's wrong? Are you alright?"

I blinked a couple of times. But every single time I stared up into his eyes it sent a tremor of fear through my spine. I shuddered.

"Did you have a bad dream?" He asked. I could tell I was lying on the floor, next to where Edward had been sitting; Alice and Jasper leaned anxiously over his shoulder.

"Yeah," my voice sounded like an echo again.

"What about?" he asked.

My eyes wandered back to Jasper and Alice then into his deathly green eyes, I shook my head.

He sighed, and bent forward a bit I started to get a bit worried when he got a bit too close; but, he just scooped me into his arms.

"Grab a candle," he instructed, "I'll take you to your room so you can sleep more."  
I nodded and grabbed a candle as he leaned over.

I forgot to argue about the fact that he was carrying me again for the second time in the last 24 hours.

I set the candle on my bedside table and let him lower me to the mattress.

"What did you dream about," he prodded, leaning over me. He had me pined. I was sitting on the bed, he was opposite me, both arms on either side of my legs, he leaned over intently matching his height with mine so he could stare directly in my eyes.

"I just had a nightmare, that's all."

"No, that's not all," he said.

"I don't want to talk about it."

I looked away obstinately.

"Tell me," he commanded, his eyes were hard and demanding.

"I don't want to," I said, crossing my arms across my chest and glaring at him.

He gritted his teeth.

"Why won't you tell me?" He asked. "I don't want to upset you; but, I just want to know."

"I dreamed about a dead kid, if you must know."

"Who?" He asked. But, he knew the answer.

I closed my eyes, and tried to focus on the sound of the rain as it tapped against the windows.

He cursed himself in a quiet, deadly voice.

"It's not your fault," I told him quietly.

"Yes it is," he said.

"No," I shook my head, and reached up to tuck a lock of brown hair behind my ear, "I was curious, remember?"

"Just because you were curious, it doesn't necessarily mean I should have said anything. It was a fluke that you found out; I must be off my medication or something."

'It was a fluke that you found out; I must be off my medication or something.' That was exactly what I had told him when he learned my real name.

He smiled and I understood.

I never wanted people to know who I really was—so I hid behind my name. He hid behind his secrets. His manifold secrets.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, don't be. Never be sorry for anything that has to do with me. It will always be my fault."

"It is never your fault. Never."

How could he have saved his family? He wasn't a superhero. He was just a man, a man that was lost in things that he had no control over. He couldn't blame himself for it. Or could he?

I didn't want to believe he could.

"He wanted you to be with him," I said, "It wasn't your fault. You think you've failed him? No, because look at exactly who you are—who you've become. He must be your guardian angel."

"Do you truly believe that?"

Such a skeptical statement, said with such hope was out of place. And I couldn't help but letting my heart override my brain for a moment.

I cradled his chin with my fingertips, "I do."

Edward nodded.

I saw a hidden memory pass over his dark eyes. Like the candle flickering; his eyes flickered with the same indecision I saw when he left yesterday. What was going on inside his mind?

I didn't know why; but, I was absolutely and inconsolably terrified to find out.

* * *

**What is going on in Edward's head? Sorry this is a little late (I usually update in the mornings before school) by my Internet was malfunctioning, so I couldn't....Anywhoo--I like this chapter. **

**Reviews are appreciated.**

**You guys are going to hate me next chapter...I just realized that....oh well....**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"So, you said you were having trouble with boys?"**

**"A boy," I corrected, without even hesitating.**

**"Do you think perhaps he's the reason you've blossomed into such a beautiful young woman?"**

**Edward? Edward the reason I had become that way I was?**

**It made sense. In fact it made more then sense. It was more than just coincidence that I'd first realized that change was on my horizon that day back in fall when I first met Edward. **

**Professor Cullen continued, "Or do you not like him?"**


	15. Half

**Chapter 15: Half**

I didn't have any more dreams about Seth. I dreamed about nondescript things; things I forgot about upon waking. Our power had begun to function again. The heater was humming, making up for lost time. I pushed tendrils of my hair out of my face. My clock was unhelpfully blinking the wrong time at me, alerting me to the power outage. As if I didn't already know…

I still felt a pain in my chest. I couldn't comprehend what my heart was telling me until my head offhandedly scoffed that what I was feeling was empathy.

You felt empathy for your friends. Sympathy for their problems and hardships borne from your love for them. Strength of a friendship is fueled by mutual understanding and caring.

My window was streaming in bright light indicating a brilliant morning.

I rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans, buckling them around my hips. I found a long sleeve shirt and pulled in on over my head.

I surveyed my appearance in the mirror, bangs that hung over my nose and past my cheeks and then longer hanks that fell to my shoulder blades. My eyes were gaunt and set in deep over my round nose.

I exited the room. I apparently had been the only person to make it to my bedroom last night. Edward was sprawled out on the floor next to the recliner; and, Alice and Jasper were still against one of the far walls, snuggled against each other.

Edward awoke when he heard my door close.

"Is it morning?" He whispered.

I nodded.

"I'll be going then," he whispered sadly. I could tell he didn't want to leave; but, I didn't have the heart to stop him from going.

He shrugged out of the doorway noiselessly. I retreated back into my room to watch him out the window. He walked away briskly; rubbing his bare arms, and cupping his hands to his mouth to use his warm breath to heat them.

I watched him until he was out of view; and then I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the blank wall for a very long time.

Alice knocked on my door when it was time for me to head off for my first class of the morning. I walked through the rest of my day; a little bit frazzled.

I missed my classes with Professor Cullen. I mused, sitting on one of the park benches in the campus. He was such a kindly fellow. His English class had disseminated with the end of the fall semester.

"Good to see you again."

Speak of the devil; and the devil shall appear.

Professor Cullen sat next to me on the bench, pulling an orange out of his breast pocket. I stifled a giggle.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

He mused for a moment, peeling the orange, "I miss having you in class—so I figured I'd take the opportunity to visit."

I nodded.

"So, did you ever resolve what problems you were having?" He asked, he leaned forward a little and looked at me over the rim of his spectacles. In a man of his stature, he didn't wear glasses they were most definitely spectacles.

I pursed my lips and exhaled sharply. "I guess so."

"That's not too convincing," he said, and handing me a wedge of his orange. I sucked on the end, making at face at the slight citric acidity.

He chuckled, and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose with a waspish finger, "So, whatever was bothering you?"

I thought for a moment, "I guess you could call it guy trouble."

He looked at me with seriousness, "I wouldn't believe you'd ever let a boy get to you. Or perhaps they've started a war over you? You are rather beautiful."

I blushed and shook my head.

"You don't believe me?"

"I've never had anyone tell me that; at least not in so many words."

He smiled, "Then I'm glad to have the privilege as being the first of many."

"Not many," I sighed. "I'm a little too contrary to ever attract anyone good."

He tweaked my nose, "But that's the point, Miss Swan. You're wonderful exactly the way you are. You know you've grown so much even since my English class ended."

I had changed.

Change was inevitable.

Something I had fought so hard against; something I feared the most had come upon me in the night—and I hadn't even realized it'd taken me until it was too late. I was different. And there was no going back.

I would never be the old Bella again.

Who was I now?

And what had instigated this change?

"So, you said you were having trouble with boys?"

"A boy," I corrected, without even hesitating.

"Do you think perhaps he's the reason you've blossomed into such a beautiful young woman?"

Edward? Edward the reason I had become that way I was?

It made sense. In fact it made more then sense. It was more than just coincidence that I'd first realized that change was on my horizon that day back in fall when I first met Edward.

Professor Cullen continued, "Or do you not like him?"

I shook my head. Did I like him or didn't I?

I wasn't sure of the answer.

"He's just a friend." I answered; it was more of a knee-jerk reaction than a rational answer.

He was just a friend. He had to be, I wouldn't allow any more. It was outside the parameters I'd set for myself to link myself to anyone romantically. It was inexcusable. I wouldn't allow it.

"Do you think, perhaps, he might turn out to be more than just a friend?"

"No, he'll only be a friend."

"You say it like it's final. Like it's your decision to make."

It was my decision, wasn't it? It had to be. I got to decided who I ended up with. Some guy or no one at all. I was leaning towards the latter.

"Isn't it my decision, though?" I asked.

"Actually, I guess it could be," he said, and scratched at his unruly thatch of blonde hair, "but, if you want my opinion, I would have to say that you can't fight who you end up with. It's not your decision to make who was always there for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there has always been someone out there for you, even before you were born. It's linked deeper than anything else. Thicker and hotter than blood—you won't be able to fight it. But, my question is, Miss Swan, why would you want to?"

Why would I want to?

Because, that poor loser of a guy deserved better than what I could offer. I was half of a person. Half the personality. Half the life. Half the social skills. Half the looks.

My heart sighed theatrically. That's why they call your soul mate your better half.

Everyone is only half a person, my heart scoffed.

But, I'm not worth it. My head responded.

That's what you think.

It is. But, I've always thought that.

You've changed other things about yourself. Just think about it like convincing yourself that Santa Claus doesn't exist.

I smiled half a smile to myself. It's easier said then done.

It was easier said than done. And it wasn't a risk I was going to take. I was not going to dive head first into the dark waters that occupy the world of romance. I hadn't the energy or the motivation to do so.

I shrugged in response to Professor Cullen's question.

He licked his thin lips, "You know something?" He asked.

I looked at him and shook my head.

He went on, "I never thought that anyone would be able to change me. But, then Esme came along. Swept me right off my feet."

I'd never heard him speak of a woman before.

I briefly glanced down to his left hand, his ring finger was adorned with a thin, silver band.

"She's your wife?"

He nodded, and then glanced to some place far away, "She's my true love."

I was quiet.

"We met after I got out of college. Took me forever to ask her to marry me. And you know what the first words out of her mouth were?" He looked sideways at me, "She told me that she loved me since the very first moment she saw me. But, it took her a long time to realize it. She said that when she stopped being stubborn and gave in. She realized that the muck of emotion's she'd been feeling finally made sense. She said it had to be true love. We've been through a lot over the years.

"We found that we cannot have children, but through all that we've stayed together. Everything that I am is because of her."

I didn't know how to respond. I had the feeling that he had just indulged something very personal. Something that he wouldn't normally tell people, especially not insignificant college students.

"Do you know why I told you this?"

Oh good, well he was going to tell me. "No."

"Because, you need to realize that you can't fight."

I squared my shoulders obstinately.

He laughed, "Don't tense up, I was only telling you what I have experience with."

I smiled a little, "Thank you for telling me."

"Anytime, Miss Swan. Anytime." He stood to leave.

I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap. "Professor Cullen?"

"Hmm?" He asked turning around. He adjusted the drape of his nondescript, gray blazer.

"Ah, never mind."

He smiled understandingly, "You know, Miss Swan, in so many ways you remind me of my Esme. She is so much like you."

I blushed.

"If she and I could have children, I should like to think our daughter would be a lot like you."

I opened my both and took in a deep breath. I bit my bottom lip, "Thank you, Professor."

He nodded, and smiled; his eyes crinkling at the corners, "Good day, Miss Swan."

And with that he turned on his heel and walked away.

I sat on the bench for a little while longer, studying the sky. It was a deep, velvety blue and clouds were sparse. The sun was sinking deeper and deeper.

"Is this seat taken?" It was Edward.

I looked up at him. He was silhouetted against the backdrop of the sky. His features were darkened by the lengthy shadows; but, his eyes were as brilliant as ever.

I shook my head.

He sat next to me. A little closer than I should have liked; but, I wasn't really paying any attention to him so it didn't really matter.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh," I said, and looked over at him, "nothing."

"It can't just be 'nothing'."

"Yes it can."

He laughed quietly. "Ok, maybe it can."

We were quiet as the night encroached.

I could hear his even breathing beside me.

"I've noticed something about you lately," I finally began. I'd been wondering about it for a while, and my curiosity had finally gotten the best of me, "you're eyes have been kind of indecisive looking. Like you're having a battle with yourself."

He laughed. "My, aren't we observant?"

I shrugged.

He knew I could see through his eyes just as easily as he could see through mine. He had to know that.

He was naïve to think any differently.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to sound uninterested.

I failed.

He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes suspiciously.

"I dunno, why don't you tell me. I'm sure you know."

"I actually don't," I said sheepishly. "That's why I'm asking."

He laughed shortly and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned forward; elbows bent on his parted knees and hands rested beneath his pointed chin. He looked out over the campus a thoughtful expression in his eyes. I had to wonder what he was thinking about—because he was doing a very good job of veiling it from his expression.

"Tell me," I urged. Curiosity raging through my voice.

He looked at my eyes, and chuckled a little, "I don't think you'll like the truth."

I probably wouldn't; but, if I was going to get the answers this was no time for cowardice.

He turned sharply and looked strait into my eyes.

I had to say, I was startled so much by his sudden movements that I was unable to fathom an intelligible sentence.

His look was so intense it frightened me.

"What's the matter?" My head asked. My heart was too bewildered to even realize what the heck was going on.

"Isabella."

Stupid electricity.

"I," he shook his head; "I don't know how to say this."

"Spit it out," my stupid head said sourly.

Dang it! My heart yelled.

Shut up.

His eyes looked hurt. "I'm not good at this."

"Not good at what?" I asked going for more of the curiosity and less of the morbidity.

"This kind of stuff."

That was lame.

"Your explanation of this sucks, just so you know."

He chuckled, "It does, doesn't it?"

I nodded, and crossed my arms across my chest; leaning away from him so we weren't so freakishly close.

He leaned away quickly. He was going to have to stop with the abrupt movements. It was making me dizzy.

"Listen," he said huskily, turning to face me. I was startled by how somber his eyes were.

I glared at him to ensure I was listening.

"Bella, I know this will probably upset you. That's what the indecision has been about."

I jerked my chin forward a little; it was supposed to look like an encouraging nod to keep going, but I think it ended up a little more curt-looking that I'd meant it to.

He smiled ruefully. Edward opened his mouth and then closed it again, a look of concentration on his face. He looked like he was desperately searching for words to express what was on his mind.

I was growing even more terrified with every passing second; and so I started to get impatient, and when I'm impatient I'm cranky.

"Out with it," I urged, too much acid on my tongue.

He huffed out a breath and then got a look in his eyes that reminded me of how people generally look before they take a dive off the diving board at the pool. But his eyes didn't look right. He looked more determined to belly-flop than to nose-dive.

"Isabella," he said, I scowled, I knew he saw how hard my eyes were. Until he saw the dawning horror as he formed his next words.

"I'm in love with you."

* * *

**I told you guys that you'd hate me. **

**So, Edward is in love with Bella...but how does she feel? I guess you're just going to have to wait and find out! ;) **

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"I never lied to you."**

**"But you never told me the truth!"**

**"I didn't tell you because I didn't think you were ready," he shot back acidly. "The truth is, Isabella, I fell in love with you that moment you sat under the oak tree! The moment I first laid eyes on you!" He took in a deep breath and continued, looking at me with his eyes afire, "I thought it was impossible for someone like me to ever love again. But, you proved me wrong! And you know what? I love being wrong!"**


	16. Kiss

**Chapter 16: Kiss**

Love.

I gagged.

What?

I started to hyperventilate.

This conversation had officially taken a turn for the worst. Not just the worst. But something worse than the worst. My head reeled. What was I going to do? Was he delusional? That was a good option. Edward was a psycho. Yes. Good. That was good. But, then again, I was then sitting on a park bench with someone certifiably insane. Not so good.

Oh well. I figured I could dredge up the self defense I had been going over in my head upon first meeting him.

"Bella?" He asked tentatively, "You're really pale."

Was I? I bet I was.

"Huh," was all I could manage. My voice had left me with the rest of my senses.

"Listen, Isabella," stupid electricity, "I didn't know if it was right of me to feel the way I feel about you. I didn't think I'd deserve someone as wonderful as you."

"Uh."

I still couldn't be coherent.

My head recovered first. My heart didn't even have a sliver of a chance.

"I'm sorry, Edward."

My voice wasn't sorry. But, I tried to make it sound so.

He smiled sadly, "You don't feel the same way about me, I understand."

My heart was racing. I did everything shy of placing my hand across my breast to stop it from beating out such a fretful rhythm.

I had to make a snap decision.

But, before I could even think of how to let him down nicely he completely cleared my thoughts.

I watched this in a sort of detached state, realizing belatedly that it was like the time I'd seem myself falling out of the oak tree. Everything was in painstakingly slow-motion; and, it caused me more pain to watch than I would have ever imagined.

Firstly, Edward looked at me with somber, contemplating eyes. Then he leaned a little closer to me.

I scooted back an inch on the bench, and then realized I was stuck when my back pressed against iron arm rest.

His cold hand cupped my neck. He smiled as he felt my pulse rushing through my jugular vein. The other hand went to my cheek and started to brush it softly.

I was too preoccupied to realize that my heart had begun to race for another reason entirely. All the terror was gone from my body replaced by overriding joy and expectance.

My head was starting to scream wretchedly. And my heart told it pointedly to shut the heck up.

It felt like eternity before he finally kissed me.

It wasn't at all what I had expected my first kiss to be. I had no idea what I expected. But it sure wasn't like this!

Electricity, I noted.

My heart was melting like butter in a frying pan; and, my head took the opportunity to override any other reflexes and assert its superiority.

I pushed him away, regaining my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Edward." I said again. This time, though, I wasn't sorry in the least.

He sobered.

"I shouldn't have done that," he apologized, "I should have respected you, I'm very sorry."

He was so formal; my head decided to be a little nicer, "Edward, please, just hear me out?"

I pushed myself off my seat on the bench. Edward was still looking at me, rejection written upon his pale features.

My head and my heart were screaming expletives at each other at an almost dizzying pace. While the deafening argument continued just within my ears; Edward looked torn between two things as well.

He stood.

My head gained the upper hand and backed me away. I currently was attempting to rebuild my façade, resurrect the strong, outer walls of my psyche. They'd been torn down, quite violently, during the Great Battle of Edward. Bella had lost and wanted her revenge. She was going to get it.

Edward reached out to touch my shoulder.

"Don't touch me," I warned.

He held up his hands innocently.

I clenched my hands into fists at my sides. I had to keep going forward with this. I was not going to fail. Failing was not an option.

"Edward, I'm not going to love you." I said more as a reassurance to my self than to dissuade my would-be suitor.

"You refuse to?" He sounded stunned and little more than surprised.

Was I refusing to fall in love with him? Yes. If I hadn't forced my volition would I have fallen in love with him? Maybe.

There was only a tiny, miniscule, pathetic iota of a hope for romance. But, it was still there, festering away in my cold, dead heart.

It gave on final cry of defeat; and, that was the last I heard from my heart for a very, very long time.

"I can't, Edward."

His features pinched, eyebrows puckering over his nose, "Can't, or won't?"

Hmm. Now that was a good question. Which was it?

I sighed and indignantly set my jaw forward, "A little bit of both, I guess."

He looked at me in confusion, and then softened around the edges just a little, "I understand."

"You do?" The heck of it was, I didn't entirely understand myself; so it was quite a relief that he understood. At least one of us was keeping our wits about us.

But, honestly, did he really expect me to be coherent when he sprung something like that on me?!

Yeah, Bella, we're all buddy-buddy! Let's be friends! I'll be the first true friend you've ever had!

What a load of crap that was. What was he after? I'd been vulnerable to him. I guess, maybe I was sending mixed messages. But, with my scanty experience—and by scanty, I mean nonexistent—with dating; how was I supposed to know what kind of messages I was sending out in he first place?

This was not fair.

But, when had life ever been?

Was it fair when I was practically begging God for a boyfriend during those sordid high school years; only to be told to wait? Was it fair that everything was going so smoothly for Jasper and Alice? Life wasn't fair. It was a fact. I hated it. But, it was true.

I turned away from him slightly, hugging myself.

I suddenly felt very cold.

"Isabella," his voice was gentle. And I wanted to run away and hide, "I know this isn't what you want to hear…"

"Then why say it?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Because I need to. You need to know the truth."

"The truth?" I laughed. It sounded so absurd, "What is truth, Edward? What was truthful about all those times you lied to me?"

"I never lied to you."

"But you never told me the truth!"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't think you were ready," he shot back acidly. "The truth is, Isabella, I fell in love with you that moment you sat under the oak tree! The moment I first laid eyes on you!" He took in a deep breath and continued, looking at me with his eyes afire, "I thought it was impossible for someone like me to ever love again. But, you proved me wrong! And you know what? I love being wrong!"

I shook my head, "Do you truly believe in that crap?" I spat, "Love at first sight? You've got to be kidding me!"

"I didn't! You made me believe in it!"

"Maybe you're mistaken?" I offered my voice growing weak with every failing argument.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you've got to be!"

"No, Isabella. No."

It stung.

I slowed down my thought processes and relearned how to breathe properly. Ok. I was seriously going to have to stop this. Nip it in the bud, so to speak.

"Edward." I began calmly; but, I could feel the spark of anger welling up in the bottom of my throat, my stomach churned, "Please don't make me hurt you."

I was too late. I'd already hurt him; I could see that in his stoic, green eyes. It was there, behind the acid…the true pain.

My stomach clenched painfully, butterflies swelling into my throat, "Edward," I croaked his name; but, he silenced me.

"I will never stop being in love with you," he promised me. I nodded, I guess, somehow, I knew that. "But, if it will make you happy, I'll leave. You can forget about me. But, just know; it was all for you."

I nodded, and bit my lip.

He leaned forward and I didn't back away this time; my body was done fighting. His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "You'll always have my heart."

I didn't want it.

Did I?

I couldn't want it.

Could I?

I didn't deserve it.

That sure as heck was the truth.

He turned to walk away, his head inclined slightly towards me and he murmured, "Be happy."

I stood, watching his disappearing back; not knowing that he took something of mine with him.

I hated him for this. I could have been just fine without all this melodrama. But, no, he had to go and be cliché and fall for me! Not cool.

I walked home barely even paying attention to my feet on the uneven sidewalk. My thoughts were, obviously, a thousand miles away; and, I intended to keep them there. It was better than living in stupid, tiresome reality.

I hadn't realized I was crying angry tears until I walked into my apartment facing Alice and Jasper's bemused visages.

"What?!" I demanded huskily.

"What happened?" Alice asked, her green eyes gone wide.

"Nothing," I deadpanned, wiping my nose against my sleeve.

"It's not just 'nothing'," she said worriedly, "tell me!"

I laughed humorlessly and then gritted my teeth, "He just makes me so mad!" I sobbed angrily.

"Who?"

"Edward," I laughed again. I sounded hysterical, "He…I dunno. Just, leave me alone." I shrugged away and meandered into my room.

I heard their soft, worried voices on the other side of the wooden door. I slid down to the floor and started to cry in earnest.

I didn't want this! I screamed at myself. How was I supposed to know that everything that had happened to us culminated to this?

I sat in front of my door, looking over all of this.

Ok, so, Edward had fallen in love with me. Bad, but no unmanageably so. And how did I feel about him? I would have been tickled pink if we could have kept our relationship on a platonic level. That would have suited me just fine. I liked him as a friend. That was why this hurt so much, right? I guess it was because we wouldn't be friends anymore. Stupid and crappy as it was, I refused to be close friends with him if he had other things in mind.

I fell asleep, huddled up on my side against my doorway.

The sun set on me as I drifted off, into a restless, nightmare-filled sleep.

I gathered myself up and looked in the mirror. I looked like a ghost. Too pale. Way too pale. I'd always been slightly sporty looking with a bit of a tan. I was always outside with my brothers. Playing cops and robbers or wrestling in the yard, or moving large, unmanageable musical equipment to the dorkiest band van in existence.

My eyes were puffy, which I hated; though it made them look less inset into my face. I sighed and changed my clothes. I probably could have done with a shower; but, Mario would have to deal with the slight stench emanating from me. If anything it was a positive warning against people to stay away from me.

I sauntered in the back door to Mario's.

"Woah," he said looking at me, "what crap-hole did you climb out of?"

I was very close to saying things very uncharacteristically unladylike; but, I decided for the silent glare approach to getting him to shut up.

"Ok," he said, hands forward, "I didn't wanna know that bad anyways."

I shrugged and grabbed my apron, sneering as he called after me, "Be chivalrous to the paying customers!"

I tried to do my job. I mainly just walked around with a slightly murderous smile plastered to my lips the entire time. Thankfully, work kept my mind wonderfully Edward-free. That I was thankful for.

"Yo, Punk," Mario said as I was about to leave for afternoon classes.

"What?"

"Where's that boyfriend of yours?"

"Well, I dunno," I replied, playing stupid, "he's off getting his degree from Harvard then he's going to go perform brain surgery and then maybe, he'll save the world!" Mario glared at me, I continued, "What boyfriend do you speak of?"

"The dish-washer kid."

I bristled, "What about him?"

"Where is he?"

"He's not here?" I was surprised. And then, after a brief second it all made sense.

He was only staying here for me. He wanted to be near me. Be close to me. And, because I'd pushed him away, there really was no overriding reason for him to stay. He could just leave. And I could just forget. Really, it was a good thing. But, then why did it hurt so badly?

"I dunno," I whispered; and, before he could ask me anything more about it, I pushed through the back door and waited for the sobbing to begin anew.

* * *

**This chapter goes out to _fantabulocity_ because you gave the best review last chapter and also have been guessing what's going to happen for a while now. :) I know a lot of people are going to be mad at me for making Bella not love him. There is a point to this, by the way. And I know from personal experience that Bella probably feels like crap right about now. I've had a guy tell me something similar... (Actually it was more me saying: "You deserve someone better" and he was like, "There is no one better.") So I know how Bella feels right about now. **

**Extended sneak preview to whomever can figure out what classic work of literature this story is loosely based on!**

**Please review!!**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**"You know something," I asked, "the only guy you can trust is your dad...or you brothers. Especially when your brothers are guys like your dad and uncles. They're the best. **

**"But, I'm gonna warn you now; don't get messed up with boys. I don't care who they are. Just don't. I don't think you have to worry about something like that, though. I'm sure your Daddy would beat them within an inch of their lives if they tried to get within three feet of you."**

**Her thin lips turned up into a little baby smile, she cooed.**


	17. Time

**Chapter 17: Time**

I didn't cry again; much to my surprise.

I was glad I didn't. Tears were for the weak, and I most certainly wasn't weak. I was strong. I'd fought for myself and I'd won the battle against all odds. But at what price? I had to ask myself. What had I forfeited in order to win?

This, generally, would have been a question I would have asked my heart; but, it was oddly silent, which, my head told me was a dandy thing.

"You look a little off," Jasper told me.

I shrugged. Normally this kind of comment would constitute a brash retort from me and perhaps a hard punch to the shoulder; but, I lacked the energy and the gumption to currently do so.

I was packing my bags, ready to spend a week away from everything. Back to my parent's house for Spring Break. Lovely, lovely Spring Break. I could already smell my mother's fantastic cooking.

I bade Alice and Jasper a lackluster good-bye as Garrett pulled up to the curb in front of our apartment complex.

I chucked my duffle bag into the backseat before climbing in shotgun.

"So, what's up?" He asked amiably, bobbing his head a little to the music from his radio.

"Nothing," I said. My voice was doing that bothersome echo thing again.

He quirked an eyebrow, "So what's your issue now?" He sighed.

"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered, glaring out the window.

He sighed and looked out over the steering wheel, "C'mon, Bells, just tell me!"

"Nope."

"It's eating me up inside. I want to know, you've got me curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," I smirked.

He laughed lightly, his voice was musical "Satisfaction brought it back."

I laughed too; but, it sounded foreign coming from my absent lips.

I sighed, and then continued looking out the window. "Geez, Bella. You're killin' me here!"

"Fine," I said begrudgingly. In all truthfulness, I was glad that I could finally tell someone without the girly squealing that would have ensued if I had told Alice.

"Did Em tell you about that guy who was at my apartment a while back?"

Garrett stiffened a little but then nodded lightly, "So what. You dating him or something?"

"Hardly," I responded. My chest was taut with the pent up emotions that had been welling there for nearly a month, "Edward…I dunno what his issue is; but, he's in love with me."

Garrett started laughing so hard I was nearly sure he was going to lose control of the car.

I glared viciously at him. "What's so darn funny?" I asked.

He threw one hand in the air, graciously keeping the other on the steering wheel, "Yes! I just won a bet! I so knew you'd fall in love within the first year you were outta the house!" He laughed idiotically.

I choked back a spiteful response, "Don't celebrate yet, Buddy! I said Edward was in love with me, not I with him," I corrected smugly.

"You're getting defensive!" He laughed, "Oh, Bella is in lo-ve," he sang the last word. I gritted my teeth together.

"I am not. If you must know I turned him down—told him I refused to fall in love with him."

Garrett sobered and then groaned, "Aw, heck why did you do that, Bella?"

"Do what?" I asked, glancing at him askance. This was not the topic I wished to stay on throughout the rest of our hour journey homeward.

"Reject the poor guy."

"I'm not in love with him," I stated simply, giving one shoulder a shrug, "It would have been unfair of me to lead him on."

"Well, you must've been sending him some kind of romantic indication or else he wouldn't have confessed his affections for you."

Darn. He was right.

"Look, Garrett," I said and glared out over the dashboard, "How was I supposed to know if I was sending mixed signals?"

"You've got a point there, Hon; your love life has kind of sucked."

"If by 'sucked', you mean, nonexistent, then yes. You're right, it has."

He sighed, and then worried at his bottom lip, "So, that's what has you wound so tight if we loosed you it'd produce enough energy to light up Vegas for three years?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

He was quiet for a while. The only sound was the soft music playing from the souped up stereo in his car. He huffed out a breath and looked at me with eyes speculative, "You're having second thoughts."

"Am not."

I was most certainly not.

I was having second thoughts about not really having him as a friend anymore. He was such a good friend…

"I'm just upset…this kind of puts a damper on our friendship…" My voice trailed off as my face crumpled and I finally started crying again; my first time feeling something in nearly a month.

Garrett let me blubber like a baby nearly the entire way home; and, for that I was glad. He didn't make a move to comfort me or to spew out some nonsensical crap about how it was going to be all right. He knew it would take time. I knew that too. If anything time heals all wounds. It had to.

It was nearly dusk by the time we pulled up in front of the familiar white farmhouse that had served as my shelter throughout the years. It was oddly foreboding in the dark.

My mother threw the door open with a vengeance, clattering down the stairs to gather me into her warm arms. I was glad to have someone to burrow against.

"Bella?" Her voice was intense as I pressed my nose into the hallow between her throat and shoulder. "What's the matter, Sweetie?"

I shook my head infinitesimally.

"It's a long story," Garrett sighed, shouldering my duffle bag. "I'll tell you all later; let's just go inside and she can have something to eat and drink."

I let my mother lead me up the front steps and into the warmth of the kitchen.

I felt a little more at ease once bathed in the warm, artificial light of my mother's kitchen.

"What happened?" She asked. She was using the tone she generally used on my brothers when they lied or broke curfew. Not to brag, but she'd never used 'the tone' on me. And, if frightened me until I realized it had a concerned twang to it. But, I was not in the mood to indulge. I looked into the mug of hot cocoa that had been placed in front of me and just shrugged.

"I'll tell you," Garrett said, gauging my expression with a sidelong glance.

I nodded for him to continue, "Apparently that guy Edward, the one Em was telling us about"—my mother nodded, noting she remembered him—"anyways, he apparently…well, he fell in love with our little girl here.

"And, I guess Bells doesn't feel the same way about him; so she dumped him like yesterday's trash."

I groaned, and sniffled, "You make it sound much more awful than it was. I didn't dump him—I judiciously said I didn't love him and I wouldn't love him."

"You 'wouldn't' love him?" My mother asked.

"I can't, Mom!" I wailed, suddenly passionate about this subject that I so much detested.

"I don't love him! Why is that so hard for you all to understand?

"I know that you all have been so in to my love life that this is so much of a let down; well, I'm sorry to disappoint but, I thought this was my decision to make. Not anyone else's!

"If I had truly wanted him, he'd be right here across from me, meeting you all! But he's not, is he!"

I took in a shuddering breath, the taste of my acerbic rant still fresh on the tip of my tongue.

I glared at Garrett as he opened his mouth to respond, "We understand that. I'm sorry we upset you."

"I-I just wanted him to be my friend. I loved him that way. But, it wasn't enough for him to stay. He's gone and I'll never have my friend back. It feels like middle school drama all over again!" I laughed mirthlessly.

My father, whom I hadn't even noticed before, came forward and sat across from me, "You know," he mused, not really looking at me, more like past me, "when I learned we'd had a daughter I was terrified. Boys were easy. To take care of your brother's issues I could just take them out into the yard and beat whatever was bothering them out," he smiled crookedly at the memory of him and the boys wrestling in the front yard to vent frustrations, "but, you're different, Bells.

"You have so many more things to deal with. And, I'm afraid the male population of this household can't help you with it. But, as you and your mother," he sent a sheepish glance at my mom, "work this out, just know, that if you ever need someone to punch, you have my permission to use any of the boys."

"Hey!" Garrett objected lightheartedly, "I don't think I signed up for that."

"You're a big brother; it says in the handbook that you have to take one for your little sister once and a while. Even if it's the little sister that deals the punches."

Garrett laughed and rolled his eyes sarcastically.

There was a soft knock at the door. I looked up to see Garrett perk up a little and take two long strides over to let Kate into the house. Her amber hair was longer than I had remembered and she looked just as lovely as ever.

She smiled as she remembered me; but, her smile faded when she took in the look on my face.

"Oh," she breathed, "have I come at a bad time?"

"No," I said, afraid that my raspy throat would make the statement a little less valid.

She looked down at the tops of her worn Vans and then back at me her eyes sober and imploring. I tried to smile.

Another knock came at the door, this time I knew who it was, and I was actually excited to see them. Because on the other side of the wood stood two people whom I loved dearly and whose faces were familiar enough to me that even if I were to be blinded I could still tell you in great detail what they looked like. But, another face was outside with them. One I hadn't met yet. And was eager enough to meet that I practically jumped out of my skin at the prospect of meeting her.

My father was the first to make it to the door, me right behind him.

Emmett, Rosalie and Eleanor were there. They looked tired but happy. I smiled at the little bundle in Emmett's arms.

Garrett came forward to admire his niece as well; he pulled Kate by her hand to see the little girl.

"Ok," I announced, "you all got to meet her at the hospital I haven't met her yet, back off I get to hold her first."

Rose laughed, "Of course you get to hold her first, Aunt Bella."

I blushed. Emmett seemed a little reluctant to hand his daughter over to me; but, it's not like I was going to drop her. He should've had a little more faith in me.

"Support her head," he said warningly.

"I know," I chided, and then took the little girl into my arms. She had soft, blonde hair like Rosalie's and Emmett's steel eyes.

"She's beautiful," I noted. Rosalie smiled hugely.

"We know," Emmett said nonchalantly a teasing smile on his lips. I smiled back. The baby began to whimper so I took that as my cue to hand her back over to her parents.

"Bella," Garrett noted, "you can't use the baby as a buffer we still wanted to talk to you."

I turned and scowled at him over my shoulder.

"What's going on?" Rosalie asked, lifting her wide, blue eyes to look between Garrett and me.

I glared at the hardwood floor, "Nothing."

"That was the crappiest lie I've ever heard," Emmett remarked.

"Emmett, don't you dare use that kind of language in my house," my mother warned. Like most mother's she had a very distinct aversion to sordid language. I smirked as Emmett tried to look repentant.

"Garrett, you and Emmett go amuse the baby—we're going to be having a girl talk." My mother remarked dryly. She gave Garrett a little shove in the direction of the living room.

I groaned and made to follow them.

"Uh-uh," Rosalie said, she couldn't hide the curiosity in her voice, "I want to know what's going on!"

"It's nothing special."

"What is going on?" Kate asked a little less interested than Rosalie.

"Nothing!" I said, embarrassed.

"Oh!" Rosalie chorused, "It's something big, I can feel it!"

"It's nothing good if that's what you're thinking," I said still staring at the tops of my feet.

Rose sighed; she was an old pro at judging what I was thinking. I had my speculations that she was the one who had convinced Emmett to take me to prom almost a year ago.

"What happened?" She asked softly. The curiosity was buried in her voice, overridden by her concern.

"Some guy fell in love with me." It sounded too offhand. But, that was what I was aiming for. Make it not sound like such a big deal.

Rosalie gasped, "It's not that Edward boy is it?"

I nodded reluctantly.

"I just wanted to get to know him—and now I'm afraid I really hurt him…" I muttered, unwilling to look up into their expectant faces.

"Oh," Kate muttered and patted my shoulder. Rosalie softened and brought me close to her in a tight hug.

"Bella," Mom said, "you don't have to love the boy; but, I think it would be big of you if you tried to make an effort to keep a friendship with him."

"I know," I sighed, it was much more complicated than that, "I'm just afraid he won't come back and even if he does; what if that's not enough for him? I've already hurt him enough."

"That will be his decision to make; if he wants to stay and be your friend he will. And, if he wants to just leave and try to forget, he can. That's his decision."

I nodded reluctantly.

"So that's all that's going on?" Rosalie asked.

I nodded, "Pretty much."

Grateful for a lull in the conversation, I quickly changed the subject from myself, "So how have you and Emmett been fairing?"

Rosalie brightened at the prospect of gushing over her little girl. Kate looked interested, and my mother was definitely interested in finding out how her solitary grandchild was doing. I was just thankful that they had seemed to forget about me. Because, in retrospect my problem really was just minute. It was a passing whisper of something that could have been widely blown out of proportion. Thankfully, it didn't get blown out of proportion.

And even more thankfully, everyone seemed intent upon hearing about Eleanor's sleeping habits. I had to say, I wasn't too interested in hearing that my niece woke up every hour on the hour. I slipped into the living room, unnoticed by the three older women.

The boys were sitting around trying to sedately watch the season opener of baseball. None of them wanted to wake the contently sleeping baby in Emmett's arms.

"Can I hold her?" I asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa, near Emmett's side.

"Sure, you can take her," he smiled.

"I'll go sit outside so you all can yell at the TV," I smirked.

The three men gave me sheepish grins as I walked out of the room. I could hear them already giving an enthusiastic murmur as someone made a good base hit.

I slid out the back door onto the porch.

Eleanor stirred in my arms and looked up at me with interested eyes.

"Hello there," I said softly.

She made a gurgling noise. I'd like to say that it meant 'hello'.

"You know something," I asked, "the only guy you can trust is your dad…or you brothers. Especially when your brothers are guys like your dad and uncles. They're the best.

"But, I'm gonna warn you now; don't get messed up with boys. I don't care who they are. Just don't. I don't think you have to worry about something like that, though. I'm sure your Daddy would beat them within an inch of their lives if they tried to get within three feet of you."

Her thin lips turned up into a little baby smile, she cooed.

I smiled down at her, and rocked her back and forth.

"You know, I like you, Kid; I think we'll keep you around."

"I think that's a pretty good idea." Emmett said, about three feet behind me. I tried not to jump and disturb the baby.

"Don't do that to me, I almost dropped your daughter!"

He chuckled, "You wouldn't have dropped her."

"So what are you doing out here? I thought you were all enthralled with the game."

"Nah, Garrett dished on the latest gossip; so I heard about you and Edward…" His voice trailed off embarrassedly.

"Ah," I said, "you know, I came out here to escape the gossip."

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not here to lay into you about it. I'm here to make sure you're ok. I know from experience that it's kind of scary when you realize someone you never expected is in love with you.

"And when you don't feel the same way I'd imagine it'd be worse. I can't say I can sympathize with you there—because I was in love with my someone; but, I was just denying what I felt. Writing it off as something else. But, once I gave into her she had me completely; and, now I can't imagine my life without her."

I nodded.

"Someday, I don't know when, but someday you're guy will come."

I smiled halfheartedly.

"And like I've said before—I reserve the right to beat the tar out of him to make sure he's worthy of my little sister."

I laughed softly, "Thanks, Em." My voice caught in my throat.

He came up and put his arm around my shoulders, "Anytime."

* * *

**Aw, she's got such good big brothers! There are only a couple of chapters left in this story!! I kept getting asked the question: "Is Edward coming back?" Seriously, people, what do you think? No, I just had him confess his love to Bella--she rejects him and they never see each other again. Honestly, guys. Of course Edward is coming back! Good grief. But, you guys will just have to wait and see what Edward's coming back will do. Me thinks it's in the next chapter... ;) Oh, and for those of you who guessed about what classical work of literature this story is based on, it's actually Pride and Prejudice. With a bit of a twist. **

**Please review!!**

**Next time on TGBM**

**"It's like Night of the Living Dead around here," Mario remarked, pouring sauce into the doughy crust of an uncooked pizza.**

**"Huh?" I asked nonchalantly.**

**"Bella is a zombie," he remarked ticking off the apparently undead-like characteristics of his employees, "Jasper's all moody, and Edward seems to have died all together!"**

**I scowled, "That's not funny."**


	18. Earthquake

**Chapter 18: Earthquake**

We were all starkly awoken at 3 o'clock in the morning by a sharp cry. I was sharing my room with Garrett and Benjamin, because their room had been taken over by Emmett, Rosalie and the baby.

I smiled as I made my older brothers sleep on the floor. Neither of them seemed too disturbed by the baby's frantic wailing. Garret muttered something that sounded like a curse word; Benjamin hit him with his pillow and then shoved his head under his covers.

I climbed out of bed, tip-toeing around them and out into the hallway. Rosalie was just getting out of her room, baby in her arms.

"I'm sorry we woke you," she said.

"No, it's ok."

She smiled, and sighed tiredly, "I thought she was going to start sleeping through the night sometime soon—but I guess she's making one last hurrah."

I shrugged and gave her a nod before walking back into my bedroom. Garrett and Benjamin were both sprawled out on the floor, having sufficiently fallen back asleep.

I, however, took a lot longer to stop my restless buzzing. I finally slipped into a nightmare-filled sleep by sheer willpower alone.

Stupid Edward was in my stupid dream.

And I awoke in a cold sweat, my brothers standing over me looking like I was out of my mind. When in reality I was very much in my mind, and very much terrified within that mind.

Because I hated to see the vivid emerald of Edward's eyes reflected in the ring he was forcing onto my left hand.

"Geez, Bella, don't give yourself a heart attack," Garrett muttered.

"What's wrong?" Benjamin asked. He was a little more sympathetic than Garrett. He had the whole 'therapist' thing going for him. I had good reason to believe it had something to do with having bratty teenagers talk your ear off about their usually horrific problems and then exchange their problems for a truly wonderful dose of God.

"I just had a bad dream," I mumbled. I didn't want to tell them. Mainly because love was a stupid thing to fear.

Benjamin nodded and left it at that—but, Garrett looked at me as if my answer left something to be desired.

I rolled over so my back faced them. I didn't sleep any more that night. Or any of the subsequent nights for that matter. The sleep deprivation gnawed at my already frayed nerves; and, by the time I returned to school I was a raving lunatic.

Alice looked at my sideways and Jasper almost laughed; but, I was past the 'caring' phase and well into the 'I don't give a crap' phase of what seemed to be a fairly strange period of denial.

I sighed and shrugged my way to work.

"It's like Night of the Living Dead around here," Mario remarked, pouring sauce into the doughy crust of an uncooked pizza.

"Huh?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Bella is a zombie," he remarked ticking off the apparently undead-like characteristics of his employees, "Jasper's all moody, and Edward seems to have died all together!"

I scowled, "That's not funny."

"Sure it is." He said confidently.

I sighed and bit my lips, "Whatever."

I shuffled out into the hustle and bustle of the dining area.

I forgot people's orders. Everything just kind of blurred together in my mind like a half-chewed mess ready and waiting to be vomited out of my brain.

I wasn't entirely sure what would come out when my brain finally blew; but, I had a gut-feeling that it wasn't going to be pretty. It'd be like puking every colour of the rainbow…

People's faces stuck behind my eyes, even though I wasn't aware of who they were. Their eyes burned into me until finally I began to feel the sheer terror of everyone staring at me well up inside me like a dam ready to burst.

I just wanted to scream at those people to stop staring at me! Mind your own business!

I shuffled into the kitchen, a cold sweat on my skin.

"You look about ready to puke," Mario commented.

"I don't feel sick. My stomach feels fine," I retorted. My stomach did feel fine; it was my head that was bothering me. It wasn't a headache, nor was it a migraine it was just a fuzzy feeling behind my eyes.

"Why don't you go take a break," he suggested.

I went out back and sat on an upturned crate. I rested my bent arms across my knees and bent my forehead forward to rest upon them.

I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed through my nose.

I kind of think I fell asleep. My head resting against my knees I fell into something near a restful slumber; but the line between sleep and meditation is finely blurred. I was calmly able to think about things that had bothered me for a while.

Things like my past. Like my utterly boring high school years that fluttered by like the beating of hummingbird's wings.

I longed for those days. Despite the feelings of alienation, and fear, I had come to realize everyone felt that way every once in a while. I had let it dominate me body and soul, and it had morphed me into a strange and cynical being. Someone I had hardly intended on being.

I wanted to reevaluate who I was. What I was to become. Because did I truly want to be unsociable Bella the rest of my life?

No. I wanted to be a successful young woman.

I realized that I truly wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to be a mentor to people; so they would never feel alone the way I did. I wanted to teach people all the things I could. I wanted to learn right along with them.

I wanted to share their joys, and their sorrows. I wanted to start to feel things. Past the emotionless mask that I kept in place; past everything; I wanted to feel things passionately.

I wanted to cry with reckless abandon and laugh with as much energy as I had.

I wanted to be able to hold someone, and in turn be held!

It was terrifying and wonderful to find out this information about myself; because up until very recently I was convinced that I was an empty shell of a person. It was somewhat intriguing to find that I could be normal—or as normal as one can get—just like everyone else.

I sighed and pulled myself up to a normal sitting position.

I laughed for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime; and, it didn't seem hallow. It sounded wholesome, and deep.

I didn't quite know what was so funny.

I guess it was really funny to find that one had been wasting their years on a shadow of a life—but it was too overwhelmingly happy that I could finally find exactly what I was looking for.

All those years of Sunday school were finally adding up. Because, somehow I knew that I was finally living up to what I was always meant to be.

I stood, a feint smile still on my lips, and walked back into Mario's.

He looked over his shoulder at me, I smothered my smile. I wasn't too inclined to reveal my revelation to anyone just yet.

"Feeling better?" He asked, raising his pierced eyebrow.

"Yeah," I said wistfully.

Jasper sauntered into the back door just then. I was surprised that his appearance didn't kill my mood.

I was struck by the look in his eyes. He'd obviously just said goodbye to Ali. He had a lingering love behind his eyes and definite sadness at parting. It once again startled me into smiling that his expression stood out so much to me. It was almost like breathing air for the first time.

He gave me a questioning look, and I just averted my eyes to the floor.

The white, sterile tiles blared up at me like bright lights.

If Mario had been concerned before, he was completely freaked now, "Ok, spill. What's got you so smiley?"

I laughed. "Nothing. I'm just realizing that I have nothing to worry about. I've finally come to terms with reality, I think." That was nondescript enough for me. It was as good an excuse as any.

I sighed.

Jasper chuckled, "Bella, you seem star struck."

I shrugged, "Not really. It's just refreshing to feel like I belong."

Why did those words sound so familiar?  
I'd eaten an Italian sundae, whilst sitting across from Edward as he spoke those very same words. Identical words, opposite meanings.

He'd belonged here, physically, because I was here. He thought that maybe he could have my heart along with everything else. But, you can't have your cake and eat it too.

I was sad again.

But this time for an inexplicable reason.

I stared nonchalantly off into the distance, reliving my conversation with Edward. I glanced over to the sink, where I'd become so accustomed to seeing his back.

I missed him.

That much I could admit to myself without feeling guilty. In an odd way, it made me homesick to think about never seeing him again. But, that was life.

And, that was exactly what I'd thought about him before, when I met him that rainy day in October. I figured he'd impact my life for but a moment and then move on.

He had. He'd impacted me for the better.

It was his influence that had forced me into changing; and, despite my reluctance I was pleased with the outcome. And, I had Edward to thank for that. I wished on top of everything else that I could have thanked him.

I wished that it hadn't taken his leaving for me to realize that. He didn't really need to leave. It was a silly impulse that he left. But he was being true to himself. He didn't want to grow close to anyone. I was just hoping that wherever he was, he was safe and had maybe been affected by me as well.

Or, at least affected in a good non-rejection sort of way.

I leaned against the counter, and looked around the kitchen, returning my thoughts from Edward.

There was an odd metal-crunching sound from outside. I cringed away from it.

"What the heck?" Mario asked under his breath.

"I don't know," I replied. "Maybe Jasper just hit a stop sign or something—I always told you that boy couldn't drive." I joked.

Jasper appeared from the dining room; not from the back door like I had anticipated.

"I thought you had a delivery?" I asked, awestruck.

"No," he said, eyeing me warily. He turned his attention to Mario, "Did you hear that loud bang?"

"Yeah," Mario agreed, wiping his flour-covered hands on a towel, "Do you know what it is?"

"Nope, I was hoping you'd tell me. It's kind of got the customers in an uproar."

"Crap," I muttered.

Then there was the unmistakable sound of sirens.

"Great, the cops are coming," Mario murmured, "So I guess it's bad then."

I listened for a second, the blaring horn of another rescue vehicle was imminent in the distance, "An ambulance is coming," I noted.

"Fabulous," Mario muttered; he stalked towards the dining room, the front door and the source of the loud noise, "Someone's been in a car accident right in front of my shop. That's got to be bad for publicity."

I tried to laugh; but, my sad attempt at bravado faded quickly.

Jasper and I stood in the kitchen looking around with an air of unease hanging about us.

The back door creaked open, and a frantic Alice shuffled in.

She went straight into Jasper's arms.

"What happened?" He asked her hurriedly.

Her look obviously stated she knew what was going on outside. I didn't particularly want to know. Blood and gore were not my forte. I didn't want to know. Nope, not even the slightest bit of curiosity.

"How could he not see the car coming?" She sobbed.

"Who?" Jasper asked, placating her short hair with one hand, the other kneading at the knot of tension in her back.

"He-he just stepped into the street!! He didn't even hear the car's horn! And then," she sobbed, "it was too late."

"Slow down, Sweetie," Jasper hushed her, and wiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb, "You saw someone get hit?"

His voice was full of the protection I craved for. It made me envious.

She nodded solemnly, unable to answer with words.

"Who got hit?" I mumbled. I was fairly sure that we knew him by the tone of her voice.

My stomach started to knot with a tension that I couldn't exactly place. It just hurt. And for gastric reasons this time, I felt like I was going to throw up.

I had to have known what her stupid answer would have been the minute she parted her lips.

"Edward."

I was surprised I actually didn't throw up the moment she said his name. I was so glad I didn't.

Edward was hurt. Not just hurt—but as callus as this sounds, he was road-kill.

Suddenly it felt like the whole world was shaking under my feet. An earthquake? No, it was much simpler than that. It was my entire body caressing with tremors from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.

Alice and Jasper blurred in my mad frenzy of shaking.

No, it wasn't an earthquake; just my little portion of the earth shaking and crumbling around me.

* * *

**[ducks and runs for cover] I know I said not to hate me about the confession chapters...but _really _please don't hate me for this. It is necessary to the story. Ok, so I guess I could've had some run-of-the-mill romance story where everything was all fluff and cute and Bella loved him from the start--but I didn't want to write that. I wanted to write something that was still a story, but not predictable. I guess it is a little cliche, though. In real life, love doesn't come easily. I know from experience. Everyone who writes the stories where Bella and Edward fall in love easily and at a young age, you do write good stories and they make poeple all warm and fuzzy on the insides; but I'm a teenager and I know nothing is that easy. I'm a firm believer that in life you have to work hard for the things you want. Like it's hard for me to make friends...but I want friends. So I have to work hard for that. And I want to wait to date--agian--until I'm mature enough and it's hard to resist (especially when someone I've dated before won't give up trying to get me back...) but it's still tough. And I desperately want to be a good writer but I have no natural talent in that area. I've had to work. People with natural talent are great, but I find it annoying. I like having to work towards a goal to make myself strive to be perfect at the things I want to have or be good at. **

**And I didn't mean to get into that long rant...but I did. :)**

**This is the 18 chapter out of 20 plus an epilogue. So this story is almost done! **

**PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review. Maybe it'll get me to post sooner. Who knows? ;)**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**It struck me then, that it had been replaced. In the stead of my heart was a deep, primal yearning for someone who I might never get to see again. I wanted him. I wanted to see him. I wanted his eyes to look at me.**

**And I wanted a second chance.**

**He had taken part of me with him when he left. I didn't understand at the time. I didn't understand why I was so shaken by his accident. And then I understood everything.**

**He was coming back for me.**


	19. Cowardice

**Chapter 19: Cowardice**

I slid out the back door. At least, I think I did. I don't really remember much. My mind was marred beyond recognition as I fought down the rising panic that was swelling inside the pit of my stomach.

In my own personal agenda Edward seemed small and insignificant.

That was what I had been telling myself like it was a mantra.

Edward didn't matter.

Edward didn't matter.

Edward did matter and it was a fretful lie to say anything else.

What I didn't realize, however, was just how much Edward did matter. Exactly why it broke my heart into a million pieces at the thought of him dying.

I shuddered at the thought.

This I knew: Edward was my best friend. In a loose sense of the word. He knew me, it seemed, better than I knew myself. He could answer every question I couldn't even fathom to ask.

He knew me through and through.

He knew every crevice of my heart; because somehow he had wormed his way in there and completely rewired it to his liking.

I had to get out of there and think.

I perched myself on the crate behind Mario's and tried to drown out the frantic wailing of the sirens.

Edward was either dead or dying.

Every single time I thought that it felt like my whole body was going to implode. It was a feeling like my insides were unlatching themselves from me and were just floating inside my rib cage; and my muscles were being ripped from bone.

I cursed under my breath.

I had to think of why in the world my body was reacting this way. And, I had to think of it fast.

This was a time I desperately needed the console of my heart; but, it was still unbearably silent and dead within my chest.

My head wrote it off as stress.

This wasn't just stress! I wailed back.

No one feels this way from just stress! That's utterly ridiculous.

I was naïve to even try to write it off as stress. Yeah, I was stressed; but, mainly because I had no idea whether or not Edward was dead or alive.

I stood and my wobbly legs carried me to the hospital on the other side of town.

I asked the nurse behind the counter about him.

He was in surgery.

So at the very least she didn't have to tell me they'd tossed him in the morgue.

I asked, stupidly, to be informed of any changes in his condition. I wanted to be told if he was dead or not. I wanted to be able to mourn.

I'd be the only one. He didn't have family. No one else besides me had truly known who he was before all of this. I knew him. I realized that I was the last person on the face of them planet to probably ever loan him a shoulder to cry on.

I was just trying to skate by thinking that my life was ok without him.

Nope. My life was a mess without him. It was like our dirty kitchen, worn down and moldy from people not caring enough to come in and clean it up—and then when Edward did come in and clean me up I pushed him away; terrified of just what might be growing in my heart.

And what was that?

A blossoming friendship, roots splaying deeper than any blood bond could ever carry?

Or was it something else entirely?

I stood in front of the hospital, my arms crossed over my chest. I couldn't feel my heart beat.

Why the heck was it so quiet?

It struck me then, that it had been replaced. In the stead of my heart was a deep, primal yearning for someone who I might never get to see again. I wanted him. I wanted to see him. I wanted his eyes to look at me.

And I wanted a second chance.

He had taken part of me with him when he left. I didn't understand at the time. I didn't understand why I was so shaken by his accident. And then I understood everything.

He was coming back for me.

I wanted him to come back.

He was going to die for me.

I wanted to die with him.

And most of all—the happiest and the most terrifying—I'd never realized before just what Edward was to me. And now, upon figuring it out, I realized that if I hadn't been so blind I would have seen that every single moment I was with him, I was falling completely and utterly, head-over-heels for Edward Masen.

And it was going to do me a fat lot of good now if he was dead.

Because if he died, he had my heart, and it would most assuredly stop beating along with his. It had to, because I wouldn't live without him.

I was terrified of this. I was afraid of myself. I was afraid of Edward.

I was a coward. I'd hidden from him for so long that I'd just forgotten what I wanted.

I had to hide.

I couldn't bear that thought that I was losing a battle. Not against my will but against time and death and the inevitable.

I didn't want this. I didn't plan for this.

You never know how much you need something until it's ripped violently from you and then, you realize it's like an arterial wound. Spurting blood ten feet from you like a geyser. It would kill you quicker than lightening. And hurt as much as a thousand bee stings.

I did the most cowardly thing I could think of, I ran home and hid in my closet. There, surrounded by the mess, I knew I was home. Not in a 'where the heart is' sense of the term—God knows where my heart was at the time—but, here seemed comfortable. The mess was a real world personification of what I was. Wreckage. Broken. That was what I was without Edward.

Unsalvageable. A lost cause. Unfixable. Was what I was going to be if Edward didn't wake up.

I couldn't close my eyes. When I did I saw Edward's lifeless form in the middle of the road, covered in blood; so I keep my eyes open. But there was nothing I could do to get rid of the sound of screeching tires against pavement that was ringing in my ears.

My heart was aching. It was back within my chest. Or maybe it was just the gapping hole of everything Edward. His memory was breaking into a million pieces inside of me.

For a moment I thought my memory was playing horrible tricks on me. I swore I could smell him. Pine needles and deodorant, I'd once guessed.

I turned my head sharply to the side and spotted something red on top of a pile of old shoe boxes. It was his shirt. I could have recognized the red flannel a mile away.

_'I'll wash it for you.'_

_'No, you don't have to.'_

I was very glad I had neglected to wash it. And in my negligence, it had inhabited my closet.

I crawled towards it, praying that it wasn't a mirage. Something my mind had conjured up to haunt me.

I was in my own personal desert, panting after the invisible water that would never quench my thirst.

I breathed a sigh of relief when my trembling fingers made contact with the worn fabric.

I couldn't resist the urge to press it to my face and breathe him in deeply.

My eyes closed, succumbing to the scalding tears forming in them. I let out a ragged sob, and buried my nose into the shirt.

I fell asleep like that—clinging tenaciously to Edward's shirt. A frightened child cowering in the encroaching darkness, not knowing if morning would ever come.

* * *

**I've been asked a lot if Edward is going to die. I'm not going to answer that question, all I'll say is I'm trying to stick with being realistic in this story. This has been a very short chapter, so I figured I'd post it sooner. The updating schedule for this week will be the last chapter up on Wednesday and the epilogue on Friday. That schedule is tentative. If I get enough scary feedback and/or nice happy supportive reviews (see pEaCeLoVeEdWaRd1901's review of last chapter for an example) I might update sooner. Don't get your hopes up, though. **

**PLEASE REVIEW.**

**Next time on TGBM:**

**My fingers reached out to trace across the rugged pattern of the bark and I felt electricity course through my veins.**

**And then, I was climbing, higher and higher. In the back of my mind, I knew Edward wasn't there to catch me.**

**"If I fall," I asked, "would you let me be with you?"**

**Thunder rumbled warningly. _Stop_, it told me very clearly. _Stop now and don't think that_.**


	20. Poetic Justice

**Chapter 20: Poetic Justice**

Morning did come. I woke up to a sore throat—hoarse from crying—and cheeks stiffened by dried tears. I still clutched Edward's shirt to my chest—I was wary to even let it out of my sight.

I dressed in a haze, and unwittingly threw the red shirt on over my normal work attire.

I ducked between buildings and down alleyways; going out of my way to stay away from the main street and its ominous, yellow caution tape.

I saw a glimpse of it around a street corner and felt my stomach lurch.

"Bella," a gruff voice said from behind, "take the day off, Kiddo."

I stopped and watched Mario walk past me.

"You look awful," he commented.

I didn't respond. I would've had a witty comeback; but, I knew it was true. I didn't just look awful, I was awful. I had lied to myself and to the most precious person to me. It was a sin. I had sinned against Edward and I was afraid that even God's forgiveness wouldn't take away the guilt. The sin was gone; but, in the pit of my stomach, I knew the guilt would stay.

Mario put his thick hands on my shoulders and turned me in the direction of home.

It felt wrong.

Home wasn't my apartment.

Home was wherever Edward was.

But, I couldn't bring myself to face the sterile smell of the hospital and the finite beeping of the monitors. The numbered beeps I feared would soon cease.

I walked along the highway for what seemed like hours. My stomach was telling me it was well past noon. My brain recognized the small, yellow house it was looking for and stood on the step for a long time before moving to the porch swing. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rocked slowly.

I heard a car engine turn off; but, I didn't look up.

A quiet, musical voice whispered, "Bella?"

I suddenly realized how dark it was.

The voiced continued, "Emmett!" It called frantically. I heard heavy footsteps on the steps, and my eyes flickered upwards to the two shadows that stood before me.

I heard a baby whimper. Emmett hushed her softly before whispering, "Everyone's been looking for you; you disappeared over ten hours ago. We thought something had happened to you."

"Are you hurt?" Rosalie asked.

I shook my head.

It was a lie. I was hurt, just not physically.

I felt her cool hands snake their way to my shoulders; she sat on the porch swing next to me. "Em, take Eleanor inside and call your mother; she should know where to come."

"Mom's here?" I asked, my voice sounded hallow. And echo again.

Rosalie nodded, "Alice called her yesterday after the accident."

I nodded.

"What's the matter?" Rosalie asked softly.

I shook my head and buried my face into my knees and started to cry.

Some time later I heard another car pull up and then I hear my mother saying my name.

"Is it because of the accident?" She asked and I understood she was guessing what was bothering me.

"Edward," I muttered.

"The boy who got hit?"

I flinched.

She smoothed my hair behind my ears. I lifted my chin and saw her crouching in front of me. Rosalie wound her arms around my shoulders.

My mother let out a small, sad smile, "You love him more than you know."

I whimpered.

"He's in a coma, they don't think he'll wake up," I muttered.

"They don't think he will; but, he might. People who have something—someone—to fight for will try harder to come back."

"He won't want to," I said miserably, "He thinks I hate him."

"He doesn't think that," Rosalie chided softly.

I sobbed, "I told him I was never going to love him! I couldn't! And now look at me!" I started to cry in earnest about that.

Talking was out of the question when I could barely breathe through the sobs wracking my chest. My mother gathered me into her arms and rocked me gently back and forth, whispering softly in my ear.

Emmett carried me in his arms to my mother's car.

She helped me into my apartment where I collapsed wearily on the couch.

I was exhausted, and the pit of my chest where my heart should have been burned.

I hear mom talking quietly to Alice from the kitchen.

"They don't think he'll make it through the night," Alice said.

Mom took a sharp intake of breath.

I rolled over and hid my face in the sofa cushions.

Mario gave me the rest of the week off. I only left the apartment for classes. My classmates and professors looked at me askance; but, said nothing.

I forgot faces. It was just a mass of people, wasting oxygen and burying me in an ever growing sea of carbon dioxide.

I didn't cry.

I'd had my fill of crying.

I didn't sleep.

If I did I only dreamed about the day I rejected him.

I didn't eat.

I knew if I did my stomach would just revolt and I would throw up.

And I most certainly didn't go to the hospital.

After he survived those first crucial nights the doctors gave him a fifty percent chance to live.

His life hung in the balance, and in turn, so did mine.

I found myself constantly staring out the window. The sun burned my eyes. It felt like when you first wake up and your eyes need to get used to the burning light; but, my eyes wouldn't adjust.

The forecast kept calling for rain; but, it wouldn't come. I was glad. Rain felt like a death sentence. Edward had come into my world with the rain, and now it felt like he was going to leave with it.

More days passed. But they just muddled together in my head. I'd realized I was drowning. I was losing.

And then, it started to rain.

I stood on the front porch for a while watching it.

And then I ran.

My bare feet carried me of their own volition. I felt the shoulders of the red shirt begin to be soaked with rain water.

My hair spun wildly behind me, out of control. I felt like a ghost running through that dark afternoon; pale against the blood red of the shirt and dark wash of my jeans. Inky hair fanned out behind me—I was a ghost.

Thunder clapped over head and I came to my senses.

I realized I'd been running wildly to the place that had condemned me. My stupid, reckless heart had led me to the sheltering arms of the oak tree.

My head screamed.

And my heart moved.

Through the mulch and mud entrenched at my feet I moved forward to stand at the trunk.

I lifted my head to stare into the foliage. I whispered, "Happy now?"

Heat rose in my chest and I drew a ragged breath, "Are you happy now?!" I demanded, yelling.

My fingers reached out to trace across the rugged pattern of the bark and I felt electricity course through my veins.

And then, I was climbing, higher and higher. In the back of my mind, I knew Edward wasn't there to catch me.

"If I fall," I asked, "would you let me be with you?"

Thunder rumbled warningly. _Stop_, it told me very clearly. _Stop now and don't think that._

"Edward," I said to no one in particular and yet I knew he would hear, "I'm sorry.

"You had to have known that I was falling in love with you from the beginning. Every time you left, every single time, you had to have known it was breaking my heart.

"And now, you're not here!"

I sobbed, "Don't leave me."

I cried for a while. Cried along with the pounding rain.

The rain soon turned into a fine mist and the sun peaked shyly from behind the clouds.

My whole body was stiff.

I pried my finger loose from the branch and slowly but surely climbed down the trunk.

I made my way back home. My gate slowed. I was no longer in a hurry to get places. I finally understood why Edward walked so slowly—he didn't want to miss a thing. He wanted to absorb as much as he could, like a flower reaching towards the sun.

I sat on one of the low, wooden benches on campus; the winding, iron backrest was cold against my back.

The sky was clearing and so I lifted my face to the sky and let my cheeks be warmed by the sun.

'Be happy,' I heard Edward's parting words linger in my ears. I felt the skin of his fingers brush against my cheek. And then there was a different memory all together. The memory of the day he had confessed himself to me. How earnest his unbelievably green eyes had been. How sincere his words were. How stubborn I had been that I hadn't even realized what my heart was begging me to believe.

And then the memory of his kiss. I was too pigheaded to realize how gentle his touch was.

I'd been so preoccupied that I hadn't realized everything I'd ever wanted in a man—everything I thought was impossible—was all that Edward was.

I'd missed him. I'd missed my chance at happiness.

It was gone.

He was gone.

And it was my fault; if I wasn't so tenacious he would have stayed.

I sobbed tearlessly, "This is what they call poetic justice."

My phone vibrated in the breast pocket of the red shirt.

I didn't look at the caller id, I answered, "Hello?"

"Miss Swan?" A calm voice asked from the other end, "This is Doctor Earhart from St. Caramel Hospital."

My fingers went numb.

"It is my understanding that all information concerning Edward Masen should be given to you, correct?"

My throat constricted, "That's correct," I croaked.

"If it isn't too much of an inconvenience, would you please report to the hospital on the behalf of Mr. Masen?"

I nodded and swallowed thickly, "I can come."

"Good," he sounded relieved, "I'm glad it's finally proper visiting hours! Ever since Mr. Masen woke up this morning all he's been asking for it you!"

Woke up this morning.

Edward was awake.

And asking for me!

Me!

"I'll be there!" I quipped, flipping my phone closed.

I ran until my lungs burned. My feet were bare; they wouldn't have let me in the hospital looking the way I did.

I nearly tore the door of its hinges in my haste. I ran past Alice and my mother, grabbing a clean pair of jeans as I went.

"Bella, what's the matter?" My mother asked. But I couldn't answer. My stomach was full of butterflies and if I answered the might have flown out.

I shut my door and pulled my clean jeans on; I threw myself over my bed, searching form my Converse sneakers.

Alice and my mom opened my door, both with guarded expressions.

I pulled my shoes on with vigor.

"I'm going to the hospital," I gushed.

"Why?" Alice asked, widening her green eyes.

"He asked for me," I said, and then launched myself past them and out the door.

I kept running. Even when my legs started to feel like Jell-O, I pushed further; my heart stuttered and kept skipping beats; but, I had to keep moving.

I ran through the automatic front doors of the hospital, startling two little old ladies in the process.

"I'm here to see Edward Masen," I said breathlessly to a frazzled-looking nurse.

I knew where he was before the words: "Room 417 B," were out of her mouth.

Every fiber of my being knew exactly where he was.

Even through the blindingly sterile smell, I picked out the musky perfume of his skin; my ears head the soft tenor of his voice when he asked for me for perhaps the thousandth time.

I pushed open the door recklessly and stood there for a moment, sucking breath into my burning lungs, frantically trying to push tendrils of my hair out of my face.

I stopped breathing all together when I felt his scintillating green eyes lock on my face. His smile made my heart lurch and then stutter.

"You're awake," I breathed unable to come up with something a little less hokey.

He laughed weakly, "I didn't think you'd come." His voice sounded raspy, and he drew in ragged breaths.

"I had to," I shrugged. "You asked for me."

He nodded with effort.

The sight of him, nestled into the hospital bed, a large swath of gauze bound tightly to his head made my heart ache.

"But why did you come?" He whispered.

I shrugged again—I understood that he wanted to know why I suddenly cared.

I didn't know how to tell him that I was in love with him. I was totally and completely at a loss for words.

"I-I had to," I whispered, suddenly feeling very insignificant.

"I don't understand," Edward replied edgily. I could see he was trying to make sense of my words and actions.

I shook my head, "Neither do I."

He furrowed his eyebrows.

I walked forward, breathing slowly and trying to figure out what words to use to beg his forgiveness.

I wasn't prepared for this. I had been waiting for a funeral and then a life of wallowing in misery; not a second chance. I didn't deserve a second chance.

I knelt by his bedside and set my hand on his, careful not to disturb the IV near the crease of his elbow.

"How did you come back?" I asked, "The doctors said you didn't really have a chance."

He exhaled, "I had to come back—I was coming back for you."

I stayed silent.

"I'm sorry, you told me not to come back," he commented, his hazy green eyes were soft, "I guess it was wishful thinking to hope you'd changed your mind."

I started to cry, slumping against the stiff mattress, and resting my forehead against his sheets.

I felt his hand against my hair, patting gently, "Don't cry!" He soothed frantically.

I lifted my head a little to look into his frightened eyes.

"Edward, I'm so sorry," I sobbed, reaching up to stroke his cheek, "I lied to you. I lied and I'm sorry! Edward, forgive me!"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I forgive you?" He phrased it like a question. He still didn't understand, "But what have you done?"

"I just told you; I lied to you!"

"What did you lie about?"

"Edward," I said seriously, "Edward, I didn't realize it before; but, Edward, I never want another moment to go by when I'm not with you. I want you to stay with me. I can't stand the thought of you going away again! Edward, I…I—" the word 'love' stuck in my throat.

Edward cradled my cheek in his hand, "I love you," he prompted with an exuberant smile.

I sighed and leaned into his touch, "I love you."

* * *

**Ok, seriously, by a show of hands who thought I was going to kill Edward? Be honest. **

**And that's the last chapter. Edward's alive, Bella's in love with him and everything's all peachy keen!! Don't worry, because I didn't kind of cut it off abrubtly there, but the epilogue will be out either tomorrow or Friday. Depends on when I get the time to post it.**

**Oh, before any of you guys ask, there will NOT be a sequel to this story. Quite frankly I don't think there needs to be one. So don't even ask for one. I won't do it. **

**PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW. **


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

I pulled my tongue between my lips, biting on it in concentration and narrowed my eyes against the glare and set to my task.

Sweat sprung upon my brow, and I briefly wondered why I had decided to do this again.

"Bella! Are you done yet?"

I smiled. Right. That's why.

Because I had Edward Masen waiting for me just a few feet away.

He sat broodingly on one of the low, campus benches, his arms crossed over his chest. He was tapping out a rhythm against one of the iron, bench legs with one aluminum crutch.

He needed crutches to get around, because his equilibrium was still a little off. His dizzy spells had lessened, but he was still in physical therapy for his coordination.

He was improving by leaps and bounds.

"Bella!" He whined again.

I laughed and turned to look at him, my hands akimbo. "Keep your shirt on!" I called back, "I'm almost done."

He chuckled musically, "Do I really need to keep it on? It's kind of hot out here."

"Yes!" I screeched, my face burning.

He laughed again and lifted one of his crutches, twirling it around like he was on a drill team. He braced his against his shoulder and pretended like it was a machinegun—complete with war noises and everything.

I giggled and mopped my forehead with the back of my hand, "You're like a little boy trapped in a grown man's body."

"No, my love, I assure you, I am a man," he replied cheekily.

My face heated again and I threw a handful of mulch at him.

He laughed, "I can hear you blushing from all the way over here."

I scowled at him and went back to my work.

"Do you want to go to Mario's once you're done over there?"

"Sure," I replied, biting my lip, "he'd be happy to see you out and about."

Edward smirked, "You think he'd give me my job back once I don't have to use these wretched things anymore?"

"Maybe," I shrugged, "I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thanks, Honey," he cooed.

I rolled my eyes and turned to blow him a kiss over my shoulder. He caught it and stowed it in his pocket. I shook my head at his silliness. What a pair of cornballs we were.

I went back to sitting cross-legged near the oak.

The hot mulch bit into the backs of my thighs not covered by the denim of my shorts.

My fingers traced over the silkily rough bark of the oak. The smell of the sap reminded me of my childhood. Countless hours spent playing cops and robbers with my brothers.

I smiled to myself and felt the rough patterns coupled with the lows dips of graffiti.

A wide arc of some rambling Thoreau quote that some literature major had burned into the side of the tree with what looked to be a lighter. And the abundance of initials and hearts, most notably _JW & AB._

I smiled, still hacking way at the bark, my fingers coated in copious amounts of sap.

Edward sighed dramatically, "Bella, you've been at it for twenty minutes!"

"Leave me alone, this has to be perfect; we're going to bring our children here and show them this spot."

Edward smiled, "So you plan on having kids with me?"

I pursed my lips, hoping he couldn't see my blush, "Yes," I mumbled.

Edward pumped one fist into the air and gave me a wining smile, "Thank you, Bella, for giving me my family back."

"It's just you and me for right now, Mister," I said, jabbing my pocket knife in his direction for emphasis.

"I know," he replied happily, "but we have all the time in the world to start a family."

I couldn't help but smile back. With Edward so exuberant, so alive, I was in a constant state of continuous joy.

What a turn around from a year ago, when I had wanted to curl up and die.

Being romanced by Edward had brought such light to me. I had had no idea that life could be so fulfilling.

Every moment of every day in the beginning was consumed by his rehabilitation. There were days when he wanted to give up, but I wouldn't let him. He was in me thicker than blood and deeper than my soul. He was me and I was him.

It was so strange to think that I was whole through that duality.

"Bella," he called again.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I love you."

I smiled and my stomach felt like a flock of birds had been released into it.

I never tired of hearing that.

"As I love you."

Nor tired of saying it.

"Bella," he said sweetly.

I groaned, "Yes?"

I wondered if he realized that constantly badgering me hindered my progress.

"I'm hungry."

"We just had breakfast an hour ago," I retorted.

"I want pizza," he said.

"I was right; you're just a little boy trapped in a man's body."

"Just because I have a healthy appetite doesn't mean I'm juvenile," he quipped.

And just like that, we settled into a round of playful banter.

Edward smiled and started tapping his hand against the iron armrest to the tune of and old, Elvis song. He began to croon the melody in his rich tenor, keeping time with the hard taps of his ring against the metal arm.

"You'd suck at being an Elvis impersonator," I teased.

He smiled crookedly at me. "I don't have that good of control over my hips just yet."

"I don't think you'll ever have that good of control, Sweetheart."

He fake pouted, "You've just ruined my dreams, love."

"I thought you dreamed of being with me forever," I retorted.

"Oh, I do," he assured. "Are you done yet?"

I chuckled softly at his boyish impatience. "Almost."

He smiled breathtakingly.

"Do you remember what the first thing I asked you was?" He asked suddenly.

I thought about it for a moment. "I…I don't remember."

Edward laughed, "I asked if you were going to leave her mark on that tree."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, getting a head-rush from the onslaught of memories. It had rained that day, I remembered. And I think I had just come from Professor Cullen's class. Edward had climbed the tree that day.

Fate started stalking me that day.

"Hey, Edward, why did you talk to me that day?" I asked, quite curious. He could have remained quiet and kept to himself. I would never have noticed his presence.

He leaned forward to pick up his crutches and settled them lazily under his shoulders. His face went slack as he thought.

After a while, he said, "There was something about your gait that made you seem so insufferably sad, and it startled me; but, when you got closer there was a certain set to your mouth and an openness to yours eyes that reminded me of my brother. You captivated me, Bella, and I think I fell in love with you that day, and have fallen a little more every day since."

It never ceased to amaze me, the eloquence with which he expressed himself very much like a turn-of-the-century gentleman.

I smiled, "I think I loved you from the beginning, too. It just took me a while to figure it out."

He hobbled over to me and prodded me in the back with a crutch, "It sure did."

I frowned sheepishly, "I think I made up for it."

"Oh, you did," he replied, lowering himself at my side and kissing my cheek. "So what did you carve?"

I smiled and laced my fingers with his. I raised our entwined hands so that we could press our fingers against the newly carved bark together.

I, Isabella Swan, had fallen in love. And it was so bizarre. I had once likened the electricity to something like licking a battery. It was better than that, a deeper zing straight to the heart.

I could feel the blood rushing to my fingertips, tingling in places were Edward's skin brushed haphazardly against mine. The cold metal of his platinum ring was a stark contrast to the sweaty, sticky mess of our fingers.

Edward smiled, and kissed my cheek. "I'm glad you didn't make it corny."

I scrunched my nose up and turned to face him, "I couldn't make it corny."

"Well, I'm very glad that we're not clichéd and don't have our initials carved in a heart with an arrow through it."

"Would you have liked that better?" I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Nope, this fits us better," Edward sighed happily, resting his head against mine.

I jumped up and dusted my shorts off, and offered him a hand. He pulled himself up and settled his crutches under his arms.

"To Mario's?" He asked, staring at me with those insufferable, green eyes.

I nodded and settled in next to him as he made graceful sweeping motions with his crutches, jetting forward in long strides. I moved in closer. I twisted my rings around my finger, loving feeling them as much as I could.

We had our rough patches, because it wasn't some children's story about love. We had something real, because we were human. We still fought, I still had problems with who I was and heck, sometimes I still had the urge to punch him. But we did love each other.

And the greatest of these is love.

We left the tree behind that day, with our little carved missive stark and bright against the dark, richness of the bark.

Our initials carved in the loops of the infinity symbol. That sideways eight with _BSM _and _EAM _carved within. Our future right where we had our beginning.

**_Fin. _**

_

* * *

_  
So that's it. For people who didn't figure this out--it's a year after Edward's accident almost two after they first met. THEY ARE MARRIED NOW. If the whole really obnoxious mention of rings didn't click, they are married. Hence why Bella carved BSM on the tree. Her initials now stand for Bella Swan-Masen. Not Bella Marie Swan. So that's not a type-o. ;)

I've said it once and I'll say it again, THERE WILL NOT BE A SEQUEL. Quite frankly, I don't think this story needs it. They've already had enough drama to deal with, methinks.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this story/added it to their story alerts/added it to their favourites lists. What have you. I'm so excited about that!! I really appreciate all the support. It really means a lot to me!

If you guys want to read more from me add me to your Author Alerts! I have a couple of one-shots out and I also have another full-length completed story called Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. And if you'v read my one-shot Red Eyes I'm going to continue that pretty soon!

So, thanks again guys!

-voi ch'intrate


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